What Happens in Vegas
by KricketWilliams
Summary: After feeling like she hit a rut, Penelope decides to live it up in Vegas...and  her best friend decides to go along. As usual, I don't own a thing.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_AN: Hi Everyone! It's time for a new, big ol' story! (Haven't done an epic in a while!)...Lots of friendship, lots of fun, some angst, and tons of love...and romance. Enjoy!_

Penelope was having a Murphy's law kind of day. It was turning out so much worse than she'd expected. She was ready to cry, or kick somebody's ass, and that was just not something she'd ever normally do. She was a California girl, flower child, person of a pacifist nature at heart.

But today, she was willing to make an exception.

Not only had she woken up ten minutes late, had a runner in her favorite pair of purple tights, and spilled coffee on her pink ladybug bathroom rug, she had bad news on the home front.

To start the day off, her youngest older brother, Peter, had called and said his engagement had fallen through. He was supposed to have been married in Vegas at the end of the month. She felt terrible for him—he'd been dating Greta for _ten years—_but she felt sorry for herself, too.

After all, she had a non-refundable airline ticket for next week to Las Vegas—Kevin's ticket, too—and a really expensive, albeit rather lovely, bridesmaid dress that she'd probably never wear.

Giving her sympathies to Peter, she'd called Kevin next and talked with him.

"_So, that's what happened," she said, giving the rundown to him about the situation with her brother._

"_Well, that's a relief, really," Kevin said. "It is so much easier than having him divorce her down the line."_

_She smiled at that. "That is positive thinking, for a negative thought, Kevin."_

"_Thanks, sweeting!"_

_She heard the pleased tone of his voice and smiled to herself, until he began the next part._

"_Thank goodness we don't have to go to Vegas, either. That town is so not like us."_

_She frowned. "What do you mean, not like us?"_

"_Well, you know… that town is so spur of the moment, happening, changing. We're comfortable, set in our ways."_

_She could hear that he was pleased by this...whereas, she felt like a pair of old slippers._

"_Plus, the town is teaming with gorgeous showgirls, bikini clad models, and flashy people," he continued. "That's not us. No, sir."_

"_Reid is from Vegas," she added._

_Kevin snorted. "He's a rarity among those people."_

_She couldn't argue that._

"_You wouldn't want me to be a gorgeous showgirl?" she asked, teasing._

"_No, you don't have to be gorgeous. I love you just the way you are." _

_Penelope felt like she'd been punched; she never felt so dumpy and unattractive in her life. She grabbed her mirror out of her purse and took a look, as Kevin continued to prattle on about Las Vegas and the sins of the town._

_She looked at her mouth and thought she saw a few lines that weren't there before. Her eyes didn't shine like they used to, and her hair… good God, was that a gray?_

"_Kevin, I have to go," she murmured, hanging up the phone._

That lead her to where she was now, standing next to Emily in the conference room. She felt frumpy and ugly and old… and she felt miserable, to boot.

"Hey, Garcie," Prentiss said, looked up from the forms she was holding. "What's the matter? You look upset."

"My brother called; the one who is getting married in Vegas?" At Em's nod, she continued, "Well, it's off. They broke up."

"Oh, that's awful," Emily said sympathetically.

"Yeah," Penelope said as she plopped in the chair opposite her. "I have those tickets that are going to go to waste."

"Why not just go with Kevin?"

"He doesn't want to go. He said it isn't our type of city. We're too stable and comfortable to like it there. Like a pair of old shoes." She glanced up at Prentiss, tears in her eyes. "Am I in a rut, Em?"

Em frowned a little and smirked at the same time. "I don't think so. You don't seem like it to me. Only you can really answer that, though."

"Kevin said—"

"Hey, Em, by my estimate, this case is going to take two weeks," Reid interrupted, walking over and reading papers, too. He glanced over at Penelope sheepishly. "Oh, sorry, Garcia. I didn't even notice you there."

That was how she felt at the moment: unnoticeable. Like cellophane.

"That's all right, Boy Genius."

"Prentiss, Hotch wants—well, hello there, momma." Derek shot her his million watt grin, but even that didn't make her feel better.

"Hi, Morgan," she said, standing. She turned to Prentiss. "I'll talk to you later."

Before she left, Penelope heard Morgan say, "What's wrong with P?"

"She's feeling like she's in a rut. Like she needs to change."

"That's too bad; there's nothing wrong with Penelope," Reid replied.

Penelope smiled, pausing outside the conference room door. _That's my boy!_ She thought. She was feeling very good, until she heard the next words...

"No, she could definitely use some change," Derek said. "Some major ones, if you ask me."

Penelope's jaw dropped, and her heart started to ache, as her eyes welled with tears. Even Derek, her number one fan, the one person who _really_ knew her, thought she needed a makeover! Feeling like a horse, she clopped away on her heels as fast as she could, before anyone saw the tears streaming down her face.

* * *

"Why would you say that?" Reid asked defensively, frowning viciously at Derek. As much as Derek Morgan was Penelope's bodyguard, Spencer Reid was her champion, too. "I thought you loved Garcia the way she is."

"Down, boy," Derek replied, holding his hands up in defense. "I do. She's fantastic. I'm not talking about her appearance or anything. Hell, no. Not that gorgeous kitten. Oh, yeah, she's...she's..."

Derek began to smile as he thought about Penelope. He loved women, all women, in general. However, to tell the truth, he liked women with just a bit more padding the most. Girly girls who looked like girls. Soft thighs that would cradle him when he was thrusting, an ass he could grab onto...oh, hell, yes, he loved that!

"What does she need to change, then?" Prentiss prodded with a smirk, nearly laughing because Morgan had obviously forgotten what he was going to say, choosing instead to daydream about Garcia. It wasn't a surprise to anyone standing in the room. Everyone noticed it about Morgan and Garcia—the star crossed pair and their fixation with one another.

Everyone but Morgan and Garcia themselves, that is.

"What?" he asked, and then shook his head. "Oh, yeah. I meant Kevin. She needs to change _him_. He has been nothing but a downer for her these past few months. She doesn't smile and laugh, or go out like she used to. He doesn't appreciate the fine woman he has there."

"Really?" Prentiss asked, openly smirking.

"Yeah. She needs to find herself some man who would worship that Goddess like she deserves."

"Sounds like you're volunteering," Em commented slyly.

Derek's eyes shot up to Prentiss, looking like a deer in the headlights. "I'm just saying—"

Em continued to give him a crooked grin. "Derek... are you blushing?"

"What?" Derek asked, flabbergasted. To his everlasting chagrin, he could feel his cheeks heating.

"Why, Prentiss, you're right! He is!" Reid crowed in delight, reveling in the odd situation as he noticed the blush, too.

Derek wisely turned and left the office.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_AN: Thanks for the warm welcome and all the reviews! Whoo hoo! This turns out to be a wild ride, so hang on to your hats!..._

"Cut it all off," she said, sitting in Monique's chair. "And dye it black."

Monique had been Penelope's stylist and dear friend for the past five years. Like most beauticians, she was a marvelous listener. She'd heard every secret Penelope had ever had.

"I absolutely refuse, Garcie," she said, shaking her own black and purple bob. Monique was pale, Gothic looking, and rather fierce, but she had a heart of gold—and Penelope's best interests at heart.

"Come on," Penelope growled with a serious scowl, attempting to intimidate. "I need a change."

Monique narrowed her eyes, obviously unaffected by P's bluster. "Not that drastic of a change, sugar."

Despite her attempts to be brave, Penelope's eyes began to water.

"Come on, honey," Monique said, starting to take the clips out of Penelope's hair. "Tell me all about it. Something wrong with Kevin?"

Pen snorted through her tears. "There's always something wrong with Kevin."

The stylist removed the last clip and began to gently brush through Penelope's auburn tresses. "That's true. The day you kick him to the curb—"

"I did," Penelope interrupted. It was true. After that miserable day yesterday, Penelope had called Kevin, told him they were done, and then kept her scheduled appointment she'd had for her brother's wedding at _Chez Monique_.

Monique's hands stopped, so Penelope looked up at her.

The stylist's mouth was gaping open, like she was ready to catch flies. "For real?"

Pen nodded. "For real."

"Well, that's news!" she said with a massive smile. Like most people of Penelope's acquaintances, Monique didn't care that much for Kevin and thought she could do better.

Pen frowned again. _Yeah, right_.

Monique's smile began to fade, before she continued, "You don't look happy about that."

Pen met her eyes in the mirror. "I'm not _un_happy about it; it was a change that needed to happen. I just don't like how it came about."

"Let me guess," she said, starting to brush her hair again, giving a light massage at the same time. "He caught you in a mad embrace with that Derek you like, right?"

Penelope rolled her eyes. After hearing her talk on the phone once to Derek—and then seeing his smokin' hot shirtless picture—Monique had always thought there was more between Penelope and her _Hot Stuff _than Penelope did. She'd tried to explain to the staunch Bostonian that there was nothing there, but there was no changing her mind. She thought they were destined, star-crossed lovers.

Penelope internally cringed. Monique couldn't be farther from the truth at this moment.

Pen looked away from the mirror, not wanting the stylist to see the hurt she still felt. "That is never going to happen."

"What?" Monique snapped, frowning at her. "Is that man giving you mixed signals again?"

"He's one of the reasons I am here," Garcia admitted, meeting Monique's eyes again. "He said I needed to change."

"Ooh! Bring that big hunk in here," Monique said, holding up her brush. "I'll give him a pink Mohawk!"

Penelope stifled a giggle. She pictured Derek with that hairstyle and grumbled a little to herself. He'd still be gorgeous, even with a towering pink Mohawk.

"Who else said it?"

Pen shrugged. "No one, really. Kevin kind of made me feel like cafeteria meatloaf."

"What?"

"Flat, boring, ugly and unattractive." She met Monique's eyes again. "That's how he made me feel."

Monique shook her head. "Nope, that ain't true, kiddo."

Pen frowned. "What?"

Monique held both of her hands on the sides of Pen's head and leaned her chin down close to the top to stare her down. "No one can _make_ you feel anything, Penelope Garcia. _You_ let Kevin make you feel that way._You_ chose that. Remember that, and choose differently today. So, how do you want to feel?"

Listening to Monique, Penelope realized that she was right. Not Kevin, Derek, or anyone else at the BAU or in her life could make her feel something she didn't want to feel. She could choose her destiny, be strong and fierce and beautiful. She was going to choose that...starting now.

"Sexy," she said. "I want to feel sexy."

Monique squeezed her shoulders. "You already are...but I'll help make you feel sexier. Now, what color hair are you feeling like this month?"

"Oh, make it blonde again, fairy Godmother."

"Sure thing, Cindy," Monique teased as she began sectioning off Penelope's hair.

* * *

Four hours later, Penelope was in awe as she looked in the mirror at the thick, shiny, honey blonde mane on her head. Cinnamon lowlights were swirled in, along with lighter blonde highlights that made her hair positively glow. Monique hadn't cut the length; she'd just added some shaping and layers that accentuated Penelope's natural curl and gave her hair movement. It was stunning.

To go with her hair, she got ten _Ravish Me Red_ fingernails and ten _Picking Posies Pink_ toenails, a fantastic massage, and a painful—but necessary—bikini wax.

All in all, it was an extremely productive day.

"Too bad I can't show it off in Vegas," she grumbled, signing her credit receipt.

"Why can't you?" Monique asked. "Go anyway."

"Alone?"

"Sure!" Monique exclaimed with a smile. "Why not?"

"I have two tickets," Penelope said, hopefully. "You want to go, too?"

"Sorry, sugar, I can't," she replied, shaking her head. "But maybe someone else will want to go. Maybe someone hunky, like Derek...if you're ready to forgive him."

"Oh, I forgive him," Pen answered, narrowing her eyes a bit. "I wasn't really mad at him in the beginning—"

Monique huffed.

Pen continued, ignoring her, "But if I go, it is going to be to hook up and have fun. I can't do that with Derek Morgan hanging around."

"Why not?"

Pen shook her head. "Waaaay too overprotective."

Monique arched a brow at her.

Pen added, "Not like that."

The stylist rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Well, have fun, sugar," Monique said, giving her a big hug. "Remember: you choose whether or not you're going to have fun, too."

Pen giggled and answered, "Yes, Yoda. Goodbye."

"Bye, angel."

* * *

Heading out of the beauty shop into the now sunny day, she looked across the street at another shop she'd never visited before—the _Viper's Den Tattoo Parlor_. She'd always admired epiderm artistry on other people—especially Derek; whoa, could that man wear ink!—just like many other people her age, but she wasn't the kind that would ever get—

Wait a minute.

Straightening her skirt and puffing out her chest, she marched across the street in a determined pattern and headed into the great unknown.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_AN: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, folks. Now for some fun..._

It had been a long, long day, mostly catching up on paperwork from old cases. Derek had wanted to go home hours ago. He'd planned on stopping by Penelope's place to make her feel better. He didn't like the idea of his goddess feeling like she needed to change for anyone. The only thing in the world she needed to change was her current boyfriend.

Lynch had never been good for P. Their relationship, from his point of view, was like the Titanic—doomed to collosal failure. They were polar opposites in style. If they were restaurants, Penelope would be a five star gourmet experience, and Lynch was a truckstop. If they were stores, Penelope would be an exclusive boutique, and Lynch was Wal-Mart. They'd even looked funny together: Penelope, all put together gorgeous, and Lynch...he could barely tie his shoes. He wasn't one one-hundredth the man Penelope deserved.

Now she was feeling down, like she was unworthy, for some crazy reason. Hell, if she needed help feeling like the princess she was, he'd do it in a heartbeat for her. He'd dole so many compliments on her, she'd beg him to stop. He couldn't wait for it; deep down, she liked it. She'd blush prettily and give him one of her perfect smiles as his just reward.

He grinned. He was just about ready to go and do that now...a few more paperwork things, and he was out of there.

"Hey Derek," Prentiss said, stopping by his office. "You almost done in there?"

"Just dotting the last i," he said with a smirk.

"Wanna go to McGovern's?" she asked hopefully. "We're all heading there for a much needed brewski."

Shaking his head, he answered, "No. I'm going to head over to Penelope's, and—"

"Penelope's there already," she replied. "She called. Asked me to call JJ, and to head down. I asked her if Reid could come, and she agreed the more, the merrier...so I'm asking you, too."

He couldn't hide his startled expression. Why hadn't P asked him? "Oh. Oh, yeah. I'll go."

Prentiss grinned. "We'd better hurry down there. She's been there since just after five, so she has a head start on us."

Standing up, he grabbed his keys and his Blackberry off his desk. "Let's roll."

* * *

Arriving at the bar, Derek didn't see Penelope anywhere. He scanned the booths, starting with their favorite one, close to the bar, and ending with their least favorite, by the kitchen. She was MIA from all of those. A moment later, he looked at the dance floor; she wasn't there, either. Lastly, he glanced at the pool tables and found his target. Penelope didn't play that game, so he hadn't expected her to be there.

Penelope was standing there, wrapped in the arms of some young kid. She looked somewhat different. Her hair was back to blonde, piled on top of her head in a trendy, messy style, with a few little curly strands floating down her neck. She was wearing a black dress that was so low cut, her ample breasts were nearly falling out of the neckline. He frowned. He had the great desire to pull that dress up to cover her perfect cleavage.

The young idiot behind her had his body flush against her, his crotch against her ass, bending her over the table. His hands followed hers, showing her how to move the cue in a slow, deliberate slide; back and forth, back and forth...

Derek immediately growled and headed over to the table. "Penelope."

She looked up and grinned at him, a wolfish grin like he usually gave her when he was teasing her. "Oh, Derek! Richie here was showing me how to bank a shot."

The young man stood up quickly after looking at Derek's face and paled considerably.

_Good,_ Derek thought. _He should be scared._

"Uh, hello, sir."

Penelope began to laugh. "Rich, he's my friend, not my father! Derek, this is Rich McElroy. He's a law student over at the University of Southern Maryland, and quite the pool shark."

Derek continued to glower ferociously at the kid. "I just bet."

"Rich, this is Derek Morgan, my colleague and best friend." Penelope gave Derek another grin, but not quite as brightly.

"The team is waiting for you," he said stiffly.

Penelope pouted, turning to face the young man. "Hey, you going to be around later?"

The young man's eyes lit up. "If you're here, I'm here."

"Great!" she said, leaning forward a bit to kiss his cheek by his lips. "Thanks for the lessons, angel."

Rich's hand flew up to his cheek, as he grinned like he'd been kissed by a movie star.

Derek grabbed her bare arm in a vise like grip and started dragging her to the table.

Frowning, she tried to pull her arm away. "Derek, sweetheart, what is your problem tonight?"

"My problem?" he growled, turning to glare at her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I am doing?" she asked, smiling.

He didn't return the smile. "Answer the question."

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him. "Flirting! Having fun! Getting a new date."

"With that baby?" he asked incredulously.

She continued to scowl. "I told myself I was going to dance with the first man who said I was beautiful tonight, and I was going to have a nice time, and you—"

"You do look beautiful," he said sulkily.

"Thank you."

"Nearly naked, but beautiful."

She gaped at him, and then gave a sarcastic bark of laughter. "Nearly naked? The women you have dragged here for years have had far less than this on."

"They didn't have as much going on as you, pretty girl."

The compliment fell flat, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you, my father? I don't need a protector, Derek."

"_Someone_ needs to protect you," he snapped. He looked around, noticing they were drawing a scene. Taking a deep breath, he attempted a smile and said, "Where is ol' Lynch, anyway? Isn't that supposed to be his job?"

"Not anymore," she replied cryptically, and then answered, "I gave him the boot and headed to the beauty parlor."

"Well, congratulations on chucking dead weight," he said, trying not to look as shocked as he felt.

"Yep. I'm making changes in my life. I'm a whole new Penelope. I'm throwing caution to the wind and having fun," she said, as they finally made it back to the team. She slid her purse off her shoulder, putting it on the middle of the table. "Starting with my trip to Vegas next weekend. Anyone want to go to sin city and have a blast?"

"Good Lord, no," Reid said, putting his hands up. "I get enough of my hometown, thank you very much."

Penelope giggled. "I was thinking a girl's weekend, anyway, Reid. I booked massages and all that girly stuff."

He cringed and shuddered.

JJ shook her head. "Henry starts _Mommy and __Me_ classes on Saturday."

"Damn, I'd love to, but I can't," Emily said. "I'm going with Mark to a wedding."

"Well, that's okay. I'll sell it, and—"

"I'll go with you," Derek said, forcing her over so he was sitting by her.

She shook her head. "No. You're not. I'm going to be naughty, and you—"

He interrupted her, after giving her a wicked grin. "I'll be naughty with you."

She snorted. "Sure, and be my bodyguard like you were with Richie back there. No way, Jose."

"Listen," he said, glaring at her. "I will be your bodyguard so I can protect you, but I won't get in the way of anything. Vegas is a dangerous city for a beautiful woman to be alone."

She snorted again. "I don't know about the beautiful part."

"Why would you ever doubt that?" he asked, looking at her with his eyebrows knit. "I've always told you how beautiful you are."

For a second, he watched her eyes fill with moisture, and she looked like his P again—showing that vulnerability to him that she rarely showed anyone else—and then her mouth moved to a thin line. "Well, I've made some needed changes. I am beautiful now, and I don't need you, or anyone else, to tell me that. Out with the old, frumpy Penelope. In with the new."

"Frumpy?" he growled. "What in the hell are you—"

"Excuse me, Penelope?" Richie from the pool table said, standing there looking hopeful.

Derek had to give this kid credit; he had balls, that was for sure.

"Hi, Richie," she said, bestowing a beaming grin on that stupid kid.

"I have a game going now; would you like to be my partner?"

Giving Derek a shove so she could slide by him, she answered, "I'd love to."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews, folks...here's the next chapter!..._

Penelope wandered back over to the pool table area with Richie, who really was a sweet boy. She wasn't the slightest bit attracted to him, but he made her feel good, and feel pretty, which was all she really wanted for this evening. Richie didn't seem to mind, either. He introduced her to all his college friends, and his friends fell all over themselves, attempting to help her with anything she might possibly need.

"What do you drink, P?" Kyle, a very tall brunette in a football jersey, asked, the same smitten look on his face as Richie.

"She drinks Malibu Pineapple," Penelope heard Derek reply from behind her. She turned, and he smiled at her, before handing her the drink. "I took the liberty of getting you one, and a pitcher of MGD for the table, if that's all right?"

"Hey, man, thanks," Kyle said with a smile.

Penelope scowled. Of course Derek would know how to work this crowd; he'd been one of them years ago. Besides, beer for college students equaled a no brainer.

"Can I get in on the game?" Derek asked, this time with a far more innocent smile directed at her.

Her lips pursed. She'd seen that look on his face so many times before. Derek was playing _big __brother—_like she didn't already have four of them. He was going to effectively scare anyone who could possibly be eligible for a good time away from her. No one in this crowd was even close to being harmful—he should realize that—but she had a sinking feeling that he didn't. Or didn't want to.

"Sure," Richie replied, and then gave him an odd look. "You're not a pool shark or anything, right?"

Derek chuckled and shook his head. "I'm a profiler for the FBI; I'm pretty harmless."

Penelope snorted at that, earning her another innocent grin from him.

"You play, though?" Kyle asked.

"I hold my own," Derek replied nonchalantly.

Penelope knew then—these boys were in for it. He must've been a shark; Derek always underestimated himself in front of his competition to throw them off.

Picking three men teams, Richie, Penelope, and Derek ended up on the same team. Since Penelope hadn't played before, they paired her with Richie, who was very good, and Derek, who she knew now was damned good. They each went over to grab a cue stick from the wall rack.

"Wait a second," Derek said, looking serious for a second. "Make sure you grab the right sized cue. The right sized stick makes all the difference in the world."

She caught the double entendre behind his words. His eyes were playful, dancing, teasing. She couldn't help it. She decided to play along. "Really? I thought it was all in the way you used it."

Keeping that same mock serious look on his face, he replied, "Oh, yes. That definitely has something to do with it. It's all in the movements in your hands, baby. Lightly touch the shaft, let it glide, and don't grip the butt end too tightly."

She had to hold back a chuckle. She wondered if he was making those terms up. Somehow, pool had just gotten a whole lot sexier! She ran her tongue over her front teeth and grinned at him. "I'll try to remember that. Or is that just your personal preference?"

His eyes darkened considerably as he leaned closer to her. "If you want to know my preferences, sweetheart, I'll give you a private lesson after this bar is closed."

"Here, Penelope," Richie said, interrupting her. "Let me chalk your tip for you. Gotta cover the tip completely in order to keep it gliding right."

Her eyes shot up to Richie's, wondering if he was doing the same thing as Derek, but he looked much more innocent about it. Damned Derek, he had her thinking dirty as usual. That was typical, the big tease!

Shaking it off, she smiled, and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Richie said, placing his arm around her waist. "It's our shot."

"I don't—"

"I'll help you like before," Richie said, grinning.

When he'd looped his arms around her, she tried angling the stick right, but she failed miserably. At about five ten, Richie wasn't that much taller than she was, and his reach wasn't the greatest. She bumped against him, and he let out a whoosh of air when her elbow connected with his belly.

"Here, I'll help," Kyle said, coming to the rescue. Kyle was the tallest of the group, by far, at about six five.

"No," Derek responded, stepping forward. "She's not on your team; she's on mine. I'll help her."

The other two men stepped away, and Derek took their place behind her. She didn't have to turn to know he was behind her; even without his announcement, she would've known he was there. There was a magnetic appeal, a vibe that passed and made her aware of him always. Leaning slowly so that his body was flush with hers, he ran his hands down her arms slowly, until they rested on top of hers. Her arms tingled, and she was mesmerized from his scent—a warm, woodsy smell, combined with clean, spicy male.

"Make a vee with your thumb and forefinger of your left hand and rest the shaft there. Lightly, like I said before," he murmured near her ear. His warm breath and soft words were soothing and enticing, and she did as he bid. "Grip the stick upward, so you can have complete control, and aim at the base of the cue ball, sweetheart."

She was shaking a little now, his close proximity and masculine form both intoxicating and dizzying. Her hands were shaking, too.

"Am I doing it right?" she asked, turning to look up at him.

That was a big mistake. Her face was merely inches from his, their noses nearly touching. She'd always been unfairly attracted to Derek. She was certain he knew it, and he did nothing about it, so he obviously wasn't attracted in the same way. She wished she could just turn that attraction off, but she couldn't. There was no switch for her to click, saying, _Ignore smokin' hot best friend's sex appeal_.

He nodded, looking back at the table. "You're doing great baby. Elbow up, just like that, draw back, and shoot." He glanced at Kyle, and said, "Eleven ball, right corner pocket."

Drawing back her stick, she shot, connecting with the ball. The eleven ball was sunk exactly where he'd said.

"I did it!" Excited, she stood, bumping her head against Derek's chin with a whack. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

He rubbed his chin, his eyes watering, but he had a smile on his face. "Good job."

She reached over and rubbed his chin, too. "I'm so sorry."

His eyes darkened again. "Wanna kiss it and make it all better?"

Despite her best intentions, she focused on his mouth, instead. She met his gaze, and then blushed and looked away from him.

"Your turn, Kyle," she croaked out, in a suddenly husky voice.

The rest of the game was fun. Penelope missed more shots than she made, but she had a good time playing. In the end, Kyle and his team won, and he shook their hands.

"Nicely done," he said. He paused for a second, and then asked, "So, how long have you two been dating?"

Penelope blinked and stiffened. "We're not dating. He's my best friend."

"Oh." Kyle looked between the two of them, and then shook his head. "Wow. I could've sworn... well, I'm wrong, I guess!"

"You'd make a cute couple," Nathan, the other player, added.

"Anyone would look good with Miss P," Richie added, his freckled face grinning so widely, he looked like a smiley-face emoticon.

Derek wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the top of her head. "That's what I always tell her. She makes the man."

Penelope shoved at his arms and stepped aside. "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm no one's accessory."

Grinning, Derek said, "Yes, you are, sugar. You're my accomplice—therefore, an accessory to my crimes... like I am to yours."

Penelope was frowning. This was exactly what she didn't want to happen in her life anymore. She was losing out, and so was he, because the world thought they were a pair. They weren't, but no one knew that. She needed to end this, break the thought that she belonged to Kevin, to Derek, to anyone.

She was a single woman. A free spirited, fun loving, out to get what _she_ wanted in life woman.

She needed to do something about this, and she needed to do it fast.

"Derek, I need to talk to you. Alone."

He was joking with the guys in the crowd, having a good time, when he looked over at her. Slowly, his grin started to leave his face. "All right, angel. Let's talk."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews, everyone. I really appreciate it when you let me know what you think. This is an ouchy chapter...just a warning...but I promise, it all turns out good in the end!..._

Penelope glanced around the crowded bar and sighed. This was not the ideal place for a heart to heart conversation with her best friend. She needed to find a good, quiet spot, where she could tell him exactly what she needed to without interruption.

Well, not quite everything in her heart. A lot of that needed to stay buried in the box called _repressed desires_ in her subconscious. She was a realist when it came to love. She'd learned from Kevin, and from every other man she had ever dated; in that area of her life, she needed to be a realist.

"Derek, can we go for a ride?" she asked, looking up at him. She knew he'd taken his cycle tonight; he usually did when they hit the bar.

"Sure, angel," he said. "Just let me tell the crew we're leaving, and I'll be right back."

His concerned expression made a lump grow in her throat. This was going to be so hard. She was so used to being one with Derek. They did everything together—ate together, worked together, played together. He was her other half in so many ways.

Just not in the way that it really counted.

She watched as he wandered over to Emily and Hotch, the only two people from the team remaining at the bar. Hotch nodded in agreement, and Emily gave her a quick wave. Derek navigated his way through the crowd again, not even noticing the scads of women that turned in hopes of touching him.

Penelope internally shook her head. He had the same problem she did. When they were together, they didn't even notice other possible mates. They were too focused on each other. Derek deserved better. He really did, and so did she.

"Ready?" he asked, looping an arm around her waist protectively.

She nodded, and they walked out of the club.

* * *

Derek thought there were very few things nicer than riding his bike with Penelope curled around him. She simply felt so good against him, her knees flanking his thighs, her breasts pressed against his back, her hands splayed on his stomach. He loved the feel of her. She was comforting, like nothing else in the world.

Whenever he was upset, he'd stop by her apartment and tell her they were going for a ride. P would get an excited gleam in her eyes, and she'd grab her coat and be off with him, no questions asked. They'd cruise for hours, until she complained she had to go potty or her ass was falling asleep. Then they'd stop at a park; there was one on a cliff not too far from the BAU they loved to frequent. He'd help her off, and they'd go sit in the grass and talk about absolutely nothing.

Somehow, he had the feeling this wasn't going to be the same at all tonight.

Entering the park, past the sign declaring that it was closed, he gunned the cycle up the hill to their spot. He felt her hands tense on his belly, partially for the steep climb, but also for some other reason he couldn't put a finger on yet. He didn't like it. He didn't like the unsure feeling that was creeping into his bones.

When they reached the parking area, he waited for her to dismount, then put the kickstand down and shut the bike off. She removed her helmet and handed it to him; as he was fastening them to the bike, she wandered to the nearest bench.

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to her and sat down. "All right, angel girl. What's up?"

"Derek, I don't want you coming to Las Vegas with me."

He wasn't expecting her to just blurt that out. He shook his head. "Sweetness, we already discussed—"

"No, D, we didn't _discuss_ it. You just told me, and that was final in your head."

He shrugged. "It is final. You can't go somewhere like that alone."

"Yes, Morgan, I can." She rolled her eyes and stood. "I'm thirty three years old. I'm a big girl. I can go on trips by myself. I can have fun, let loose, and party, without getting shot or killed or any other horrible thing you're imagining. I can do it; I _am_ going to do it."

Derek felt himself falling into panic mode. He felt like his chest was caving in, and he couldn't breathe right. It made his response more harsh than he wanted. "What is the big fucking deal, P? I told you already I wouldn't stand in the way of your prowling."

"But you do," she added quickly but seriously. "And I stand in the way of yours, sugar lips. Don't you see that?"

He scowled, not knowing what to say. If he thought about it, he knew what she was saying was true. His problem was that he didn't _want_ to think about it. He loved things the way they were. He had fun with her, he loved being with her.

If he wanted sex, he could get it from just about any chick out there that he wanted, but that didn't mean he wanted to have a conversation with them. He wanted that from his Baby Girl, the only woman that truly mattered.

He wanted it to stay that way, at least for a little while longer...like forever.

"I'll back off," he answered rapidly, scrambling for answers. "I won't say or do a damn thing."

She shot him a look. "Like you did tonight?"

He snorted in defense of his actions. "Yeah. I'm supposed to leave you in the middle of a group of college guys, who could slip whatever they wanted into your drink and—"

"_Listen_ to yourself, Derek! You seriously think you'd leave me be in Vegas? I need this, Derek!" She pleaded with him. "If I wanted to stay single, if I wanted to just have the company of my best friend, if I didn't want to have sex, then I'd just stay here."

"Christ, P!" he growled, the thought of her having a random hook up hitting him like a punch in the gut. "Are you planning on fucking any man out there? There are diseases, and—"

"Oh, no," she interrupted with a sardonic laugh. "Don't you _dare_ make me feel guilty about wanting to have a hook up, Mr. _Sleeps with Whomever Smiles His Way_."

"I do not."

Her look gave him pause, so he started again.

"I haven't in awhile, at least."

They were quiet for a moment, neither saying a damned thing. Then she sat back down next to him and sighed heavily. "Derek, I didn't want it to come to this, but...I think we need a break from each other."

Derek felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. The aching was incredible. The idea of not having P around, not being with her, made him physically ill. His stomach lurched, his palms sweated; it affected him that much.

When he could speak again, he whispered, "What?"

"I think we need to be apart," she answered calmly, as if she was set in her decision. "I think I have been unfair to you, standing in the way of your relationships—"

"You've never stood in the way!" he interrupted defensively.

She ignored him. "—and you deserve a chance to find the right girl. You deserve the right girl, Derek." She met his eyes, with a sad, resigned look. "I deserve the right man, too."

The need to crush her in his arms, beg her not to go, was roaring in his blood. He couldn't think, he could barely breathe. Penelope, his Baby Girl, was leaving him, and it hurt far worse than dissolving any relationship he'd ever had.

"What if I don't want to find the right girl yet?" he replied sulkily.

"Derek, you're thirty-nine years old." She gave him a flat look. "Grow up."

Immediately, he recoiled like he'd been slapped. She'd been angry at him before, but she'd never accused him of being immature or unstable. His voice was cold and brittle to his own ears. "I didn't know you felt like that."

"D, I—"

He stood and walked to the cycle. He needed to get the hell out of there, pronto. He started unhooking the helmets. "You're right. We do need a break."

"Derek—"

He tossed Penelope her helmet, and she caught it in both of her hands. He watched as her eyes filled with tears.

Instead of making him sad, they made him even more angry.

"Don't you fucking do that! Don't you dare!" he snapped. "You're the one that wants this; not me!" He put his helmet on and mounted the bike.

Her tears began to fall, and her lips quivered. "Derek, please—"

"Get on the goddamned bike, Penelope."

She put on her helmet and mounted behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_AN: Sorry for that painful last chapter, but we're getting there...Besides, something needed to wake them up, right?...As always, thanks for the reviews!_

Penelope was sitting at her desk in her lair, reaching for another Kleenex® to blow her nose. She'd gone through a couple of boxes in the past two days. She'd sobbed like an idiot when Derek had dropped her off at her place. She'd sobbed while she was standing in her shower, and then later that night in her cold and lonely bed. She had missed him then, even though he'd never spent the night in her bed. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself and her mopey and stupid thinking.

She'd almost picked up the phone and called him, begged him to forgive her—even though she really wasn't wrong—and let things be the same. Oh, how she wanted to call the man, explain and plead with him...but her need for freedom and her love for him stopped her from doing it. She still didn't know how things could've gone that wrong in such a short period of time. She just knew he was mad as hell, and she couldn't make it better without derailing her own good intentions.

In spite of how awful this felt, she knew she was doing the right thing. He needed the break from her to find the woman of his dreams. She knew he was lying about that, too. He wanted a girl; he'd told her that many times before, and he couldn't do that with her standing in the way. She needed to find her Mr. Right, too, and it was hard to see that perfect man when Derek stood in the sightline and took up all of her collective thoughts and feelings.

It didn't help that he had been the man of her dreams, both literally and figuratively, for the past million years on top of it all.

At least the team had been called out of town. She could blubber in her office without anyone asking her what was wrong. It was bad enough that the tech girls kept calling, asking, and emailing. They had thought it was because of Kevin. They couldn't _be_ any more wrong than that. To tell the truth, she hadn't spared him a second thought, but she didn't bother to correct their assumptions.

When the team called in, she tried to be her usual self. Seeing Derek, so handsome and so stoic on the webcam, broke her heart just a touch more, but she shoved it aside and did her best to pretend nothing was wrong. Then she cried some more, blogged to her friends about her trip, and tried to pump herself up to go have the time of her life.

She had to keep heart. She was doing the right thing. She had to do this. She had to make a life without Derek Morgan as the cornerstone. For his sake and hers, she had to do this.

It just didn't feel like it was the right thing now.

* * *

It was two days after Derek dropped Penelope off at her place and sped away on his bike, feeling like absolute shit. He'd never felt so miserable in his entire life. He'd gone home, gotten in the shower and had to fight back _tears—_and he hadn't really cried since she'd been shot.

That pissed him off even more.

To top off his reign of bad luck, they'd been called out on a case the next day. He thought he had been holding in his emotions well, but that was nearly impossible around fucking profilers. Everyone on the damned plane asked why he'd looked so miserable. He was going to snap the head off the next person that said, "What's wrong, Morgan?"

He ran a hand over his face. He knew they'd meant well, but he couldn't stand it. He didn't want to talk about it.

Hell, no.

He couldn't explain it to himself; how the hell could he explain it to other people? All he knew was his heart was bruised, battered like it had never been battered before. Pulled out and tenderized like a cube steak. He felt like he'd lost his best friend, which he had, but it was even worse. It was like he'd lost something essential to his well being, a chunk of his soul...and Derek didn't feel like he had much soul left to lose in the first place.

He was sitting alone in the conference room in Cheyenne, Wyoming, looking in his go bag for some Excedrin for his constantly throbbing head, when Rossi walked into the room.

"You still look like hell."

Derek didn't bother to answer. He wasn't in the mood to talk. He found the bottle, poured two out into his hand, and popped them in his mouth. He took a swig of his water and tipped his head back.

"That isn't going to help, you know."

Derek swallowed, and then narrowed his eyes at Rossi. "Now ain't the time to get philosophical with me, Rossi. Leave me be."

In true Rossi fashion, Dave completely ignored him and took a seat in the chair opposite of where Derek was standing. "You know, come to think of it, Garcia looks like shit, too. We pull her up on the screen, and I think I should change her nickname from _kitten_ to _raccoon_. Big dark circles under her sad pretty eyes." He arched a brow and narrowed an eye at Derek. "Anyone here in this room the cause of that?"

"I don't know; maybe you should ask her."

Rossi continued to glare at him. "Listen, Morgan. I've just about had it with your piss poor attitude here. Penelope cares about you, more than anyone else around here. Whatever you did, make it better."

Derek snapped. "I didn't do this! She did."

"What did she do?" Rossi asked, giving him the hairy eyeball again. "Not compliment your sorry ass as much as she usually does?"

Derek gave him a murderous glare. "We're done being friends, Rossi. She called for a break."

Dave looked thunderstruck. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, taking another sip of the water. "We're too close. She thinks we need some distance." He looked away from Rossi; getting sympathetic looks—especially from Rossi, of all people!—made the entire situation ten times worse.

He sorely regretted saying anything at all.

"When?" Dave tossed up his hands in confusion. "Why?"

"I don't know."

"Garcia loves you," Dave said, shaking his head slightly. "This doesn't make sense."

"I don't know," Derek repeated. Rossi's words caused his chest to ache even more. "She doesn't.. she.. she just doesn't want me around anymore."

Derek cringed. When he'd started talking, he was all fury and anger. By the time he'd finished, he sounded exactly how he felt: like a lost, hurt little boy.

He thought of her words to him. _You're thirty-nine years old, Derek. Grow up._

He cringed_. She was __right—I__ do need to grow up._

"Oh, man," Rossi said, looking across the table with an even more sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

Derek shrugged. He tried to respond, but he couldn't. He hung his head and barked out a short, sarcastic laugh at how fucking pathetic he felt.

"Well, what are you going to do to win her back?"

Derek's head snapped back up to look at Rossi. "What do you mean?"

"Get in her good graces?" Dave prodded. "Make her love you like you love her again?"

"Love?"

"It's obvious you're in love with the girl." Dave sat back in the chair, threaded his fingers together, and rested them on his stomach. "What are you going to do to show her and win her back? Walk up and say, '_I'm no longer stupid; I love you now'?_"

For a second, he thought about finding some way to deny what Rossi had just said. It was a step he wasn't ready to take. He cared about her, sure..and...and...

Somehow, he couldn't get the words of denial out. The pain he was feeling, the incredible, aching feeling...

He was in love with his best friend. He'd probably been in love with her forever; he was just too blind to see it. He thought about how long she was a necessity in his life, how long he'd needed her right by his side.

There was no doubt. Rossi was _absolutely_ right.

Derek looked up at him slowly. "I don't have a clue."

"You're heading to Vegas with her. Do something there."

"She doesn't want me with," Derek grumbled. "That's how this started."

"I'm ashamed of you, son. I thought we were two of a kind." Rossi stood and laughed, heading towards the door. "I'd do whatever it takes, wooing the pants off the girl...and keeping them off of her, too." He paused, before opening the door, shooting a condescending look at Derek. "I wouldn't let something trivial like her _not_ _wanting me there _stand in my way..."

Derek looked at the door, at the exiting back of David Rossi, and a slow smile crept across his face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! Here comes the next part of the story..._

Penelope arrived at the airport with plenty of time; her flight to Las Vegas was leaving as scheduled. After checking in, getting a coffee, waiting for around a half an hour, and then boarding, she was finally on her way to Sin City.

On the plane, she sat next to a young boy, who was intently playing with a Nintendo DSi®. She hated flying and loved the opportunity of having someone to have a conversation with to settle her nerves. Having no other options, she thought she'd try chatting with this sulky looking kid who looked like a preteen.

"Hello," she started with perky charm. "I'm Penelope. What's your name?"

"Kyler," the boy said, not looking up from his game.

She chewed her bottom lip, and then began again. "So… how old are you, Kyler?"

"Eleven."

"Ah, that's a fun age," she said enthusiastically.

No response.

This was going to be harder than she'd thought. Sighing internally, she asked, "You have web capabilities on that, right?"

"Yeah."

"What are you playing?" she questioned.

"A game."

And that was the end of her exciting conversation with Kyler. She was in the aisle seat, Kyler had the window. She thought about the last flight she'd taken. It was with Derek to see his mother in Chicago . He had let her have the window seat. He'd talked to her. Not only that, he'd held her hand the entire time, kissing her fingers when she would tense and squeeze his hand tighter.

Thinking of Derek brought tears to her eyes. They'd parted so badly. She hadn't meant to hurt him; she would never do that in a million years. Somehow, she'd crushed him, like he'd crushed her.

She turned to look across the aisle. A couple was sitting there, holding hands. They were laughing, looking so happy. Not much different than the way she always looked when she was with Derek.

Then she noticed their wedding rings on their hands, and thought again about how Derek and she must've looked to the surrounding people. It bolstered her courage that she was doing the right thing, and it helped remind her to keep her distance.

Frowning, she turned to face forward. She was really tired—she hadn't slept much lately. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

* * *

An hour later, Penelope stood and wandered off the plane, feeling like dog crap. She was exhausted; just as she'd been about to sleep, a flight attendant had rammed the cart into her left arm, jolting her awake. Kyler, the vibrant conversationalist, had fallen asleep, leaning heavily against her other arm.

Aching, Penelope raised her arms above her head, trying to stretch. That was entirely ineffectual; she still felt stiff and miserable. She reached down and dragged her rolling suitcase out of the airport to the taxi stand.

"Which hotel?" the stand operator asked.

"The Bellagio," she answered.

"How many?"

"One." As she replied, a van pulled up in front. It had an advertisement for _Dangerous Curves_, a strip club, on the top.

She climbed into the van, along with six other people. She was the only one stopping at the Bellagio. Luckily, that hotel was mid-strip, because she was sitting next to a large, very sweaty man with bad breath, who insisted on talking to her and flirting. Every H word he said was pure torture, as his halitosis assaulted her.

"Hey, honey. How come you're alone?"

She didn't want to be rude, but she didn't want to encourage him, either. "Brother's wedding," she replied, not exactly lying. It was the reason she'd originally planned to head there; she just wasn't doing that any more.

"Have a happy time, honey. Here's my card…I hope you call me," he said with a wink, getting out at Paris.

Penelope let the card fall to the floor and took the first deep breath she'd had since boarding the van.

After a few more stops, they finally reached the Bellagio. The driver pulled right up front. Penelope had thought about _Ocean's Eleven_ when she'd picked the hotel, thought about George Clooney and Julia Roberts. As she saw all the beautiful people she'd expected to see milling in front of the building, she couldn't help but smile. Women in expensive dresses, with hats that matched, men in tuxedos smoking fancy cigars. It was so elegant, her excitement rose, and she started feeling a lot more upbeat.

Stepping out of the van, her heel caught on the running board, and she stumbled, landing on her hands and knees.

All the beautiful people stared at her as she sprawled out on the sidewalk, but didn't lift a finger to help.

The rapidly apologizing cab driver reached a hand down to her, helping her to her feet. "I am so sorry, miss."

She brushed herself off and retrieved her bag. "That's okay."

"Twenty dollars, please," he said, holding his hand out.

She paid the man, and then entered the gorgeous lobby, where there were many other people waiting in long lines for admission to their rooms.

Penelope joined a line, and then looked down. She had a large black mark on her new white skirt. She pursed her lips together in a thin line, feeling like she had a dark cloud over her head. She started thinking the day couldn't possibly get any worse.

Suddenly, something whumped into her from behind. She nearly fell again, and her arms flailed to keep her balance.

"Hey! The line is moving!" the hostile man behind her growled, both of his meaty hands gripping his luggage cart that bumped her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, moving forward, her expression getting more pinched by the second.

Finally, she made it up to the counter. The beautiful young clerk smiled at her with a very welcoming smile, making her feel much better.

"Hi there. Welcome. Reservation number?"

Penelope reached into her wallet and removed her itinerary with her number on it.

"Terrific. I wrote your number on your protective sleeve. Here are directions to your room. Thank you for staying with us," she said, smiling, and then looked up at the next person. "Hi there. Welcome. Reservation number?"

Penelope's smile that had crept onto her face faded away. She was tired of being rushed along. It had been like that all day. On the plane, at the taxi stand, in the lobby, herself and others blindly following, like cattle being herded into the stockades.

She hated this negative frame of mind; it just wasn't like her. She just needed to get to her room, take a shower and a nap, and everything would be just fine. She was sure of it.

Following the map and looking at her keycard, she drug her suitcase—which felt like a million pounds—down a bunch of halls, and then hit the elevator button.

Then she realized she was at tower two, not tower three, the completely wrong elevator. Her tired legs had another million mile walk to get to that set of elevators.

Ten minutes later, she boarded tower two's elevator, along with seven other people. She could feel tears gathering behind her eyes and stinging the back of her throat. She was trying bravely to hold them back in; there was no way she was going to start crying in an elevator full of people.

She made it to her room—farthest away from the elevator—her eyes blurry from tears. She tried to get the door to open, but even her keycard wasn't working.

"Come on!" she moaned, her nose stinging with the need to bawl. She could figure out any computer system in the freaking world, but she couldn't get this stupid door to open. She stuck the card in over and over, praying for the small green light on the keypad to flash, and always got the red light, instead. She laid her forehead against the door in defeat and choked back a sob.

"Please!" she begged, her hand still on the door handle.

A familiar, big brown hand clasped over hers, removing the card from her grasp. "Here, sweetheart. Let me do it."

Penelope turned to see Derek standing behind her, a warm, somewhat hesitant smile on his face.

"Oh, D!" she cried, launching her arms around his neck, burying her face in his soft t-shirt.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I forgot to send it to my dear friend, Jenny (JenRar), who has been editing this story for me, so please pardon my glitches…I never catch all of my own mistakes!... (And if you haven't, check out Jenny's work sometime-it's awesome!)…_

It was almost like she had wished him out of thin air. Penelope didn't question why Derek was standing there or what the heck he was doing in Vegas at all. All she cared about was that she needed him, badly, and he was there. She sobbed, noisy, snotty sobs against his shirt, while he wrapped his long arms around her and cooed sweet nothings against the top of her head.

A second later, Penelope felt herself being lifted and carried like an errant toddler, cradled against Derek's chest. He leaned down to retrieve her bag, then opened her door and carried her and the bag inside.

"I...I.."

She couldn't even talk. The sobs wouldn't let her. The day was that damned horrible. She was exhausted and dirty and lonely and so freaking sad and...

"Shhh, hush now," he murmured, kissing her forehead before laying her down on the bed in her room. He pulled her shoes off, and then kicked his aside, too. "It's gonna be alright."

"I..I.."

Derek climbed into the big, cushy king sized bed right next to her and pulled her against his chest. "Hush. We can talk later. Close your eyes."

"Angel fi-"

"Hush, hard head, and let me take care of you," he ordered gently with a chuckle, before pulling her closer in his embrace. She could hear his heartbeat under her ear, and his warm arms felt good in the chill of the air conditioned room. He kissed the top of her head again, and stroked her back with his hands.

She sniffled, swallowed, and then took a deep breath. Immediately, scents of Derek overwhelmed her and made her warm.

There was something so comforting and wonderful about the way he smelled. She didn't know what it was, his cologne, his soap, his aftershave, but something always smelled a little spicy. Like what she pictured a Moroccan spice market to be like, exotic and appealing.

Then there was something purely clean, like Tide and fresh air. That made her smile. Her clothes didn't smell as good as Derek's, but he used the same laundry soap she did.

However, the best scent of all was Derek himself. It wasn't sweat; she'd been around him a lot of times after a ball game or when he'd completed a workout to know that wasn't so pleasant! Right now, whatever it was, he just... smelled like Derek. It was hard to explain, but she'd know that scent anywhere. She wished she could bottle it, _Eau de Hot Stuff._ It would be an international best seller.

She yawned and felt her eyelids getting heavy. The last thing she felt before she closed her eyes was the brush of his lips on the tip of her nose.

"Sweet dreams, princess."

* * *

When Penelope finally woke up, the room was dark except for a sliver of light coming out of her bathroom, and the lights from the Vegas strip through the gauzy curtains of her window. She reached a hand out, feeling all over the bed, and came up empty. She sat up, reaching for her glasses. They were missing, too.

Turning on the bedside light, she saw her glasses laying there on the table. She put them on and looked at the clock. It was just after midnight. She'd slept for _six _hours. Groaning, she lay back down and put her forearm over her eyes, then sat back up again.

Where was Derek?

There was absolutely no trace of him anywhere in the room. She wondered if she just dreamt him into reality. She'd been so lonely, so miserable, and suddenly, he'd appeared, taking care of her like the noir knight he always was.

She seriously thought for a moment. She hadn't drank on the plane, she wasn't into hallucinogenic drugs. Bottom line: He had definitely been there.

So, where was he now?

She had a lot of questions for him, now that she was well rested and feeling more like herself. There was the obvious one- what in the hell was he doing there?- but a few others really warranted attention. She had to go find him and figure it all out. In a city with hundreds of hotels and millions of people…shouldn't be too tough!

Standing up, she slid off her ruined white skirt, her wrinkled top, and opened her suitcase.

On top of her clothes was a note.

_BG- I'm two floors down from you. Room 812. IF you need me for anything.- HS_

She wanted to snort a big _Ha!_ to needing him, trying to keep her independent nature she was trying to have, but she already did need him. She needed him badly. Even worse, she missed him, too.

She had no idea what kind of miracle investigative work he had done to find her, but she was grateful for it. It was over handed and rather sneaky, and she was going to tell him that when she saw him, but at the moment, she didn't mind so much. Because of him, she felt a whole lot better right now. Now she was ready to face the world, party, and have fun.

Reaching for her flashy red sundress she packed, she walked into the bathroom to get ready to go party.

Exiting the elevator, she wasn't too surprised to see Derek sitting there on a waiting bench, reading a magazine. The second the doors opened, he looked up and grinned at her.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

She wandered over to him, and he stood, his arms outstretched. She gave him a quick hug, and then stepped away. "Thank you, cupcake. I appreciate what you did for me."

"It was nothing."

"At that moment, it was everything," she answered honestly with a warm smile. "You were my hero."

She could've sworn she saw Derek's cheeks turn pink. He grinned, and then changed the subject. "You want to get some food? There's a nice restaurant here, open 24/7." He flicked the magazine he was holding. "I read it in _Gambler's Choice_."

She smirked. Derek rarely gambled. He didn't give a damn about that sort of thing. He had a few vices, but not that one. "How long have you been sitting here?"

He smirked back at her ruefully. "Only about a half an hour. I had to do some investigation before you got up."

"About that, sugar," she said, starting in on the more difficult conversation they had to have. "What are you-"

"Hey, first have one dinner with me," he interrupted quickly. "Then you can interrogate and decide what you want to do with me. Just... come have dinner. That's all I ask."

She paused for a second. She owed him at least that. She looped her arm in his. "Sounds like a plan."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Here we go with the next installment..._

Derek held the chair out for Penelope at a quaint table at Café Bellagio. The restaurant, open twenty-four hours, was intimate and beautiful, with white tablecloths and a great view of the fountains outside. As she took her seat, she noticed there were a lot of other diners in the restaurant, but none nearby.

The sommelier stopped by the table. "Could I interest you in wine? We have a nice selection."

"What do you have for Pinot Noir?" Derek asked.

It was Penelope's favorite wine; Derek never forgot what she liked. She knew his favorite beers, too, although that was much easier. Derek wasn't very fussy when it came to beer; he liked just about every brew out there.

The sommelier's eyes lit up. He was obviously impressed with the selections he had to offer. "The best ones we have are as follows. We have one from Southern Australia that has hints of cherry and violet in the bouquet, and one from New Zealand that has raspberry hints. We also have a warmer variety from California that has vanilla aromas."

"Ooh," Penelope gushed, her mouth watering at the varietals. "The raspberry one sounds fantastic. How much is—"

"We'll take a bottle of the New Zealand," Derek interrupted, casting a grin over at her.

When the sommelier walked away, Penelope scowled over at him. "D, some of those wines are over a hundred dollars. I can't—"

"But I can," he interrupted again. This time, he reached across the little table to hold her hand. "It isn't often I get to treat my best friend to her favorite things."

Penelope snorted. "That's bull, honey, and you know it. You treat me all the time."

"Baby Girl, just let me do it, all right? Give this ol' boy a thrill."

Teasing, she said, "Sugar, I can thrill you in so many ways, _that_ doesn't have to be one of them."

For a moment, she thought she saw heat flare in his eyes, just as the sommelier returned to the table. He poured a glass and gave it to Derek to sample.

Derek handed the glass to Penelope. "Baby, you're the expert."

Taking a sip, she let the flavors cover her palate. The raspberry burst over her tongue with a hint of sweetness so good, she could barely control moaning.

"This is wonderful," she said, smiling her appreciation at the sommelier.

Derek took the glass from her, took a sip, and then nodded his agreement. "Delicious."

Penelope felt a thrill race up her spine at the gesture. There was something strangely intimate about sharing a glass with Derek. Sharing straws, glasses… that was something she had done with Kevin. He had been her boyfriend; her mouth had touched his before. She'd never kissed Derek.

Looking up into his deep chocolate eyes, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, touching his lips, licking softly, tasting that hint of raspberry and something much more …

_Snap out of it, __Garcie__!_ she scolded herself. _He is not for you. You could change into a supermodel, and you'd still be the same old Penelope._

A moment later, the waiter appeared, knocking her out of her negative thoughts. Penelope ordered a nicoise salad with seared sushi grade Ahi tuna, and Derek ordered a chicken sandwich with grilled vegetables and garlic aioli.

When the waiter walked away, Penelope asked, "So, why are you here, and how did you find me?"

He didn't look up from his veggies, but his mouth quirked in a little grin. "Not wasting any time, hmm?"

"Spill, Morgan."

He wiped his mouth with his napkin before answering. "The finding was easy. I've known your travel plans for awhile, even before our disagreement, so I knew the hotel. What I didn't know, your room number and flight time,"—he shrugged and smiled—"was a little more work."

"How'd you find out?"

His grin grew. "I talked one of the other techs into looking into the flight database and room registry for me."

Her chin dropped. One of her own had sold her out! That was completely against hacker's code. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Which tech?"

He grinned back. "You'll never know. I promised that person I wouldn't tell."

"With good reason!"

He remained grinning.

"I can't believe another hacker would sell me out!" Huffing and muttering to herself, she took a sip of her wine. "At least I know it's not Kevin!"

"Hell, no," he growled, helping himself to a cracker. "I do have standards, you know."

She smiled at that one, despite feeling somewhat betrayed by her own kind. "Now answer the other part of my question."

"The other part is simple." He sat back, took a sip of his wine, and then leaned forward, catching her eyes. "I love you. We can fight, disagree, get in a knock down drag out quarrel...nearly _kill _each other—but I will never stop loving you, or stop wanting what is best for you."

Penelope's heart started to pound painfully in her chest as her breath caught in her throat.

"You are my best friend, and even if it means you'll be angry with me, I will always try to protect you."

The internal chant began right as her heart started its downward plummet. _Idiot, idiot, idiot._

Swallowing her pride, she answered with the best imitation of a smile she could muster, "Derek, I don't need your protection."

"Don't speak too quickly."

"I'm not," she said, pouting.

"I was handy earlier tonight; I may be handy later." He reached across and held her hand again.

"No, D."

"Baby, why can't you have fun with me, too?"

"I told you why in Quantico. You, your glares at single guys, your flirting with me." She sighed heavily. "You're not exactly conducive for me hooking up."

"I promised you there I would stay out of your way. I will. I promise again." He looked so earnest, so heartfelt.

Then she looked down at their joined hands. He was tracing unintelligible circles on her palm with his thumb, holding her hand like a lover would. A second later, he raised her hand to his lips and gave it a kiss, just before the waiter arrived with the food.

She sighed heavily and shook her head. "Derek, you don't even realize it, do you?"

"What, angel?" he asked, looking confused.

"What you are doing… holding my hand, kissing it, lover-like nicknames." She tugged her hand away from his. "It gives the wrong impression."

"What wrong impression?"

She frowned, her heart catching in her throat again with the words she was going to say. "That I'm yours, Derek."

He made a noise between a scoff and a snicker. "That's not wrong. You are mine. You always will be. _My_ Baby Girl."

She glared at him. He wasn't that obtuse. He knew exactly what she was talking about. If _he_ was going to play dumb...well, then _she_ was going to spell it out plainly.

"You're not my lover. You will _never_ be my lover. Every man in here watching us thinks that you are. Every woman thinks that I am yours." She narrowed her eyes at him for effect. "It's not fair, D. I want to find someone—you _should_ find someone—and you are not helping the cause."

"Fine," he said shortly, his lips pressing to a thin line. "I won't touch you; I won't hug you. Nothing."

"Good," she said, feeling somewhat hollow at that victory.

"But I will watch out for you. I'll just… keep my distance. You signal to me if you want me to come over." He shrugged, and then smiled. "Same bars, stuff like that, but I'll stay away."

She was quiet while she ate her salad, thinking about what he said. Try as he might, he was going to fail. There was no way in hell he could stay by himself when she tried to flirt and find someone to love her this weekend. He just didn't see that.

Then a plan rose in her mind—a wicked, terrible, _wonderful_ plan. She had to fight a smile of glee. He wanted to stick with her wherever she went, hmm? So, she was going to take him with her!

He wouldn't know what hit him.

She looked over at Derek and smiled. "Okay. You have a deal."

He grinned back and squeezed her hand, raising it towards his mouth. "You won't regret it."

She pulled her hand away, frowning. "No touching."

"Damn," he said rather sheepishly. "This is going to be harder than I thought!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. Now here comes the first thought..._

As Derek watched Penelope, a wicked little grin curving those full lips he wanted to taste, he knew he was in serious trouble. He didn't let _her_ know that he knew—oh, hell, no, he wasn't stupid—but he could tell. Whatever was cooking in that devilish mind of hers didn't bode well for him, but he wasn't going to let that be a deterrent. He was there to win her heart, win her over, and win her love. And he _was_ going to win. No matter what.

For a moment, when she started spouting that crap about him _never_ being her lover, he was damned pissed. It took everything in his power not to say, "_Ya think, huh?"_ and drag her gorgeous, red clad ass into the nearest dark corner to prove her wrong.

However, then he thought about what he'd said to Rossi, about what he needed to do. He was going to win, change her mind, and make her fall in love with him, too. He needed to woo her, support her like usual, show her that their regular relationship would work—and then make her choose him over any of the other thrills in Las Vegas.

He smiled to himself. That would be the easy part. He could guarantee her: he was far more thrilling than anything out there on that Strip!

So whatever punishment she had rolling around in her mind, he'd take it with a grain and a smile, and be her Hot Stuff—or her "Morgan," since she didn't want nicknames—and her best friend. When the dust settled and she'd made her choice, she'd come to him.

He was sure of it.

* * *

Penelope didn't like the little grin that was on Derek's mouth right now, like he was plotting something himself. She wondered what he was thinking. Cursing herself for being paranoid, she decided she wasn't going to worry about it. She was going to win, and in the end, he was going to leave her alone so she could frolic with sexy men who actually wanted her.

She was sure of it.

The waiter brought dessert and made it table side for them. She almost clapped when he flambeed the fruit in a technicolor display of fire. It was very dramatic, something she didn't see in any of the restaurants she frequented.

After he served her the dessert, she took a bite of the bananas foster that was on her plate and closed her eyes at the explosion of flavors. Sweet banana, spicy rum, earthy cinnamon, so exotic, along with the creamy familiarity of vanilla ice cream.

"Oh, my God, D...wow," she said, licking her lips. "That is incredible."

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with the darkest, hottest expression he'd ever had. Most women would probably melt faster than the ice cream at such a look from him, but not her. This was really nothing new; Derek had flirted with her and got turned on by a stiff wind some days. He was very...virile.

He gave her a lazy, bedroom smile, and then took a bite of the decadent treat himself. "Mmm hmm...Very good."

"That's all?" she mused. "Too bad...You didn't enjoy that nearly as much as me."

"How good was it for you?" he asked, his voice stroking her like velvet.

She teased back. "It was nearly orgasmic."

Something about his expression told her if he truly wanted to find _complete satisfaction_...and if she did, too...then it would have nothing to do with dessert anymore.

Something else told her not to doubt him...

She shook her head. It was going to be hard not to let him get to her. He was a master seducer; his player reputation was well earned. She wasn't immune.

She also wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to sleep with her now any more than he did back home. She was not going to be in Vegas, land of hedonistic thrills and hot sex, and go to bed frustrated every night after flirting with Derek.

She could've stayed in Quantico for that!

She finished her dessert, and then tossed her napkin aside. "Ready to go?"

"Where you want to go, sweethear—" He paused dramatically. "I mean, _Penelope_."

She glanced at her cell phone for the time. "Well, it's after two. Time to go to Drai's."

"Nightclub, huh?" he asked with a grin, before standing and pulling out her chair. "That's my stomping grounds."

"Remember...no getting in the way," she admonished as she stood up.

"Whatever you say."

She frowned. "I'm serious, D."

Flashing his white teeth at her, he opened his arms wide, and then gestured to himself. "Baby, I'm yours to command."

Rolling her eyes, she reached for her purse and headed towards the door, hearing his soft chuckle behind her.

* * *

After a rather sizable wait in line, Derek and Penelope entered the darkened atmosphere of Drai's After Hours club. There were intimate booths, lots of rich mahogany wood, separate rooms with fireplaces and couches, and a definite packed dance floor filled with beautiful people and a hip hop beat.

The world speed record for getting hit on was beat the moment Derek made it to the dance floor. One second, Penelope was standing by him, admiring and discussing the scenery over the loud music; the next, three horny bachelorettes had him by his lapels, bumping and grinding against him.

He shot her a mock helpless look, tossing his hands up for effect, as one scantily clad girl shimmied her booty down his thigh.

"Care to dance?"

Penelope turned to see a big, good looking man smile at her. He wasn't quite "Derek good looking," but he was mighty fine. He also had a thick, Arabic-sounding accent, which was mysteriously sexy and held a lot of appeal. It reminded her about Arabian nights, being carried away on a horse by a sheik across a moonlight desert.

In the back of her mind, she was highly pleased, too, that she didn't have to wait very long to dance with someone. That would've been terrible: Derek dancing, and her a wallflower.

"Sure," she said, as she made her way out on the dance floor.

"Ouch!" bachelorette number one exclaimed as he stepped her foot. "Please be careful, handsome."

"Sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't watching what he was doing; he was too busy keeping an eye on Penelope.

Derek watched as Penelope slipped onto the dance floor, the hulking man behind her standing far too close for his liking. They started dancing face to face, but all too soon, he turned her around in his arms and put his hands on her hips.

A moment later, he slid those big mitts up and onto her ribcage, near her breasts. Derek felt pure rage rise in him. The need to deck the bastard with the wandering hands on _his _Baby Girl came to the forefront of his mind.

At that moment, Penelope looked over and smiled at him from around her partner's arm.

He smiled and nodded back, as he chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from dragging her from that motherfu—

He interrupted himself to keep his cool and looked around the dance floor. Everyone in the club was dancing like that, grinding, bumping...like any club he'd ever been to. He needed to get his temper in check before he made a fool of himself. If he lost it here, Penelope would send him packing.

That probably was her intent all along—to make him lose it.

"Gorgeous, are you okay?" bachelorette number three asked.

He grinned down at her and swooped her into his embrace, dipping her in a much practiced dance move. "Oh, yeah, I'm good."

"Penelope," her dance partner murmured, his voice thick and dark and mysterious...and kind of hard to understand, if she were being honest with herself. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She was facing the man again, dancing with him. He was a bit frisky with his hands on the dance floor, but so was everyone else there. Derek's women practically had him undressed, they were so all over him.

She shook her head. She was thinking about Derek again, when she was trying to ignore him. She took a look as he dipped one of the easy girls he was dancing with. At this rate, he'd be in bed with all three of them in a few hours, and then he'd be too tired to watch over her tomorrow.

Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better.

She smiled up at Abdul. They'd been dancing a long time now, and she _was_ tired and thirsty. "I'd love a drink."

Placing his arm around her waist, he lead her to the bar, where he ordered two drinks, and then they headed to one of the rooms with the couches and fireplaces.

After taking a seat, she took a sip of her very strong drink—she had no clue what it was—and forced it down. "Thank you."

He took a seat next to her, taking a solid drink of his at the same time. He made a face and coughed slightly. "My pleasure."

They chatted for a long time, nearly an hour, and Penelope got to know a lot more about her new friend. In the more intense light near the fireplace, she noticed how handsome Abdul really was, too. He had dark, mocha skin, a shade darker than Derek's, chiseled features, and piercing black eyes.

Not only that, but he was charming. Conversation with him was light and easy going. She was beginning to like him quite a bit.

They were laughing about something silly, when Abdul reached for her hand. She watched as he brought it up to his lips and gave it a warm kiss with his full lips. He was staring at her with those intense eyes, thickly fringed with dark lashes.

"Penelope," he began, "I have to head back to my country soon, and I cannot offer you more than one night...but I would like to make that offer."

Her eyes widened. Holy cow. This was her first opportunity to do this, to have an affair and be a wild child. With a _really_ good looking guy. In Vegas, where no one would know what she'd done...besides Derek, of course.

And instead of being thrilled by the prospect, she was scared shitless.

"Abdul—"

"Here," he murmured, leaning even closer as she instinctively recoiled back into the seat. "One kiss, my darling, to show the passion that we could have together..."

With that, he covered her lips with his full, soft ones and began to kiss her. She closed her eyes, trying to experience it, giving it a fair shot.

It was a nice kiss, pleasant, and he had minty, nice breath, but it didn't rouse any supreme passion within her. She didn't want to run off to his _casbah_ with him, that was for sure.

When he tried to put his tongue in her mouth, she broke her mouth away from his and pushed at his chest.

Gratefully, he took the hint and sat back down.

"Nothing, right?" he said, with far less of an accent than he'd had earlier.

She shook her head, even more grateful she didn't hook up with this character, although she really did think he was harmless. She gave him a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Abdul."

"Penelope."

She looked up to see Derek in the doorway. As he walked closer to the couch, she noticed the lipstick prints on his neck and jaw, a kaleidoscope of colors.

Those bachelorettes had obviously been busy with her Hot Stuff.

He arched a brow at her in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, but I am ready to go," she said, and then smiled wistfully at Abdul. She leaned over, extending her hand, and then gave him a soft kiss. "Goodbye."

"Farewell, Penelope," he said, his thick accent back again, before kissing her hand. He reluctantly released it, letting Penelope go to walk out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews. I know the sight has been screwy, so I am sorry if you aren't getting alerts. I hope you continue to enjoy the story..._

The sun wasn't quite coming up yet when they stepped out of Drai's. The party was still rather happening in the building, but Penelope was glad to be leaving. She was feeling more tired than she thought she'd be. She chalked it up to jet lag or time zone differences; she was beat.

"Want to walk back?" Derek asked, once they'd stepped outdoors into the warm night air. Vegas was very hot during the day, but the evening and early dawn was the perfect temperature.

"Sure," she said softly. She could use a little peace to think about things. "Lead the way."

The Strip was rather quiet, with just a few revelers still milling about and some very drunken people stumbling down the street. Penelope reached into her purse and checked her cell. It was a little after four already; no wonder things were winding down.

Derek was quiet, too. He walked alongside her, staring straight ahead towards the Bellagio. His jaw was set in a pensive sort of way, like he was thinking about things that were far too advanced for her. She shrugged, too tired to think about what was bothering him.

"Did I interrupt something good going on in there?"

She startled a little. They were only a block or so away from their hotel, and he'd been mouse quiet until then. She looked over at him. "What?"

"You and the _sheik_," he quipped, turning to look at her with a questioning gaze. "Did I interrupt something back there?"

"No," she answered, looking down and away. "I mean..._he _wanted something, but I didn't."

"Really. That surprises me," he said dryly.

She stopped walking and frowned at him in confusion. "Why?"

"I saw you kissing him, so—"

"Were you _watching_ me?" she asked, rather surprised.

He didn't look at her, so she knew he was guilty as charged.

She started getting angry. The nerve of him, being big brother here! She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "Derek, you're not supposed to be my bodyguard."

"I didn't _do_ anything to stop it, now, did I?" he snapped, shooting a glare back at her. Then he sighed and looked away again. "Look...I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

They started walking again in silence for awhile, before she worked up the courage to say something. She still couldn't look at him; she kept facing forward. "Well, thank you."

"You're welcome."

"And no, you really didn't interrupt a dang thing."

When she looked back at him, he was staring at her with an arched brow.

"Why not?"

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know why, really."

"Come on," Derek said, reaching for her hand.

There was a bench nearby, with some act at a nearby casino advertised on it; he dragged her over to it. She was grateful to have a place to sit down.

"D..."

"Talk to me," he ordered softly. "What happened?"

"I really don't want to discuss this."

He smiled softly at her, still holding her hand. "Baby, if there is one benefit for me being here, it should be that you can use me as your best friend. Talk to me, like you would back home. What went wrong?"

The warm, patient look on his face made her realize he was right. She did need a friend.

"I don't know," she began, and then blew all her air out. She was confused, and Derek did this sort of thing a lot more often than she did. Maybe he could help her. "It's stupid, really."

"Go on," he prodded.

"I...well...I was kissing him, right?" she asked rhetorically, and watched him nod. "It was nice...but it didn't have any zing. I had absolutely no urge to go further than that."

He nodded. "No chemistry?"

She shook her head. "Zilch. I mean...he was good looking, and he wanted me...and he hit the right criteria—"

"Male and alive?" he asked snidely.

She frowned at him. Of course, he had three lovely ladies—she used that term loosely!—ready to screw him silly. He had no idea what this felt like!

He laughed and put his hands up. "I was teasing, baby."

"Not funny, D."

"Baby...baby...I'm serious," he said, holding up two fingers. "Scout's honor."

She knew he'd never been a boy scout...and it was ridiculous to try to talk to him about this.

"You're no help," she said, getting ready to stand up.

"Wait a minute. Park yourself and listen, okay?" he asked, reaching for her hand. "Sweetheart, you can't just expect to want to hook up with the first man you see. It doesn't work that way most of the time."

She raised a brow this time. "No one night stands for you?"

"Very, very few," he answered seriously, which surprised her. "Baby, you need to find that someone you have chemistry with, someone you want to get to know a little more, and one that lights you on fire when you kiss them. You shouldn't be thinking of anything else when they kiss you, besides the fact that you want to do it more."

Nodding, she listened and agreed. "How do you know?"

"Electricity." He brought a hand up to her cheek and cupped it, his thumb brushing her jaw. "It just happens, sugar. They got it, or they don't. They could look like Brad Pitt or Leonardo di Caprio, and without chemistry, it's not right."

As she sat there, his warm palm resting against her cheek, so reassuring and strong, she felt the tingles roll slowly down from where he touched her, to her breasts, her stomach...lower...

Electricity. Booming between them, enough to light the Vegas Strip. He had to feel it, too; she couldn't be the only one in this lightning storm of feeling.

Could she?

"Let's head back," she said, turning pale, standing up so fast, she nearly tipped over. Good God, she was doing it again. He was off limits. He would always be off limits. She needed to stop this dreaming and start looking for a more tangible man.

"P, you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly. She smiled at him. "Thank you."

He smiled back, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "Don't mention it."

* * *

Penelope took a long shower and climbed into her big lonely bed, thinking seriously about what she was going to do. This had been a disaster so far. She needed to get a distraction, far away from the one that was always there. Even now, when he was a few floors away, she still could smell his cologne, feel his touch.

"I need to get rid of him," she muttered to herself, sitting up in her bed. She was never going to see any other man with him around. His cosmic energy drew her, like a meteor ready to crash into earth and destroy itself. He was too much what she'd always wanted, too much what she dreamed about.

Her bedside phone rang. Since no one else knew she was there, she knew immediately who it was.

"Hi, Morgan."

"Room to room calls are free," he said, sounding inordinately pleased about that. "Means I can do my usual call to you on the house."

"One of the few free things in this town," she replied. Derek always called her before she went to bed back in Quantico, just to wish her a good night.

"Night, Baby Girl. Sleep well and see you in the,"—he paused a second, and she heard shuffling—"afternoon, since it's almost six."

"Good night, sugar. Sweet dreams," she said, and then added like she usually did, "Think of me..."

"Oh, I'll be thinking of you...and you know what I'm gonna be dreamin' about," he purred, teasing like usual, but this time causing an eruption of goosebumps on her arms before he hung up.

_Distance, _she chanted_. I need distance._

She reached for the Vegas Daily magazine on her nightstand that had shows and events to do while in town. Skimming the shows, things like operas and ballets came to mind. He would hate those—and would probably let her see them herself.

Then again, he would probably come with, just to be an ass. He'd probably get asked by the Viking lady with the horned helmet to sing a freaking aria with her, or be asked to pirouette with the swan princesses.

She groaned. She was acting jealous again, this time of women who didn't even exist!

Grumbling, she turned the page and saw all sorts of partially nude revues. That would be great, she thought sarcastically. Go see a bunch of very fit women mostly nude. No, thank you.

Nearly out of hope, she turned the page, and her eyes opened wide. Giggling gleefully, she called the twenty-four hour box office and ordered two tickets—one she was sure she was going to have to pawn.

After ordering the tickets, she snuggled down in her bed and turned out her lights. She lay on her side for a moment and whispered to the darkened room, "Forgive me for this, Hot Stuff...but it's for your own good, too."

She closed her eyes and tried to dream of her Prince Charming. He was dressed in full regalia, her knight in shining armor, but when he lifted part of the face mask, he had an awfully familiar smile...


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**_AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, I truly cherish them. It is great to know what you are thinking and if I met expectations!...Did anyone guess where they are going next?..._**

_Shit._

Derek shifted in bed for the umpteenth time, realizing he wasn't going to sleep, even though he was dead tired. His thoughts were completely consumed by the woman two floors up, as they had been for days—years, if he were being honest with himself—now.

He glanced at the clock. It was going on seven a.m.; he might as well get up and go to the gym. Whenever he was stressed out or frustrated, his insomnia came back full force. Frustrated seemed to be a mild term for what he was feeling at the moment.

This was turning out to be a lot harder than he'd thought it would be, and it had been less than a day so far. He thought about his conversation with Rossi and started to wonder if it would really be that bad just to walk up to her and say he was stupid, he'd figured his thoughts out, and he was in love with her.

A huge part of him wanted to do just that. He sure as hell didn't want to watch as another man kissed what was rightfully his. He'd wanted to kill that man at the club the night before. Fucker'd had wandering hands, too—coming close to her high, round breasts, sliding down to that perfect ass...

Instead, like the good friend he was, Derek had stayed away and didn't interfere with his fist in that guy's face.

Not that he would've let anything else happen besides that kiss...hell, no. He was her friend, but he was her man, first. She just didn't know it yet.

He started wondering to himself. Why let it happen at all? Why torture himself, when he could sweep her off her feet and be in her bed right now, instead of being awake and hard, with nothing but his fist and memories of her for relief?

Because he wanted her to come to that decision. He wanted her to choose him. He wanted her to have the ability to pick any other man out there and still want him. He wanted to win when it came to Penelope, for the first time in their relationship. He lost right after she was shot; he lost when she finally dumped Lynch. He needed to make her see him—see that he'd been right for her all along—without forcing himself down her throat. He was going to do it by being subtle. He wasn't doing anything differently; he was going to let her come to the realization...

And then come to his bed...for the rest of their lives.

Sighing, he flipped onto his stomach and punched his pillow. It was a big gamble...but he was in the right town for that, right?

* * *

"Hey."

"You're up," Derek said to her over the phone. "Good morning."

"First time I've ever heard that at three in the afternoon," she said with a giggle. "Are we meeting for lunch?"

"How about one of the buffets here?" he asked. "There are all sorts of buffets where we can be gluttons...feed our desires."

"Oh, yes. Of course," she teased. "I don't know...Might interfere with your strict diet, seeing how you—"

"Don't worry about me," he murmured. "I already got in a workout this morning."

She paused, starting to frown. "Really? Did you get enough sleep?"

"I didn't sleep."

"Derek," she admonished. He had a terrible habit of not sleeping, especially when he was stressed out, and she took it on herself to fix it. She would sometimes head to his house and give him a massage or watch a movie with him until he was sleepy and less stressed.

"I'm fine."

The tone of his voice said he was fine, but there was something not right. She knew it, but she also knew that was the tone that said she shouldn't push it, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Well, let's meet in the lobby, and we'll find somewhere kind of cheap," she said

"We got plans for tonight?"

She hesitated, considering he'd sounded kind of upset earlier, but then bravely trouped on. "I was going to see a show."

"Great," he replied. "I love a good show."

"Well, I have two tickets...but I don't think you will want to go."

He paused. "What show is it?"

She grinned and had to hold back a wicked squee of delight. "We'll talk when I see you. Meet you downstairs."

"Sounds good."

* * *

Surrounded by elegant sushi, saucy barbecue ribs, savory lamb, wood fire cooked pizza—and that was just what was on her plate!—Penelope was starting to feel a little too full. She'd had a salad, where there was too much good stuff to pass up, all fresh, crunchy, and delicious. She'd made a salad far too big, but had then eaten it all, anyway.

Derek was still eating away, bite by bite. He was on his third plate of food, and he had piled those plates high. She wondered where he was putting it all. She'd started thinking something, like his right foot, was completely made for storage.

"So," he said between bites, "what show are we seeing?"

"The Thunder from Down Under."

"Is that some new Australian show?" He looked up, mid chew, to grin a little. "Dancing Kangaroos and platypuses?"

"Oh, there's dancing," she said, drawling out the last word. Despite trying really hard to avoid it, she felt her cheeks heat.

His face fell as he watched her. "Oh, man. Penelope, what kind of show is it?"

She knew she was flaming red now. "They're like the Chippendale's, Derek."

He put his fork down and wiped his mouth off. "Really?"

She nodded quickly. "Really."

Shaking his head with a short laugh, he exclaimed, "You gotta be kidding!"

"Well, I did think this would be a girl's only weekend," she began, "and what better way to celebrate that than to see sexy men take it off?"

"If you wanted to see that, I'd get naked for you any day," he quipped, leaning closer. "For free."

She looked away from his intense eyes and took a sip of her iced tea before replying. "It's not the same, Baby Boy."

"This is ridiculous—"

"I _can_ go alone," she said, looking up at him innocently.

He watched her for several minutes, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit, before he smiled again with a devilish glint. At that moment, Penelope knew something was cooking in his mind, and it wasn't going to bode well for her.

"No, honey. I'll go with," he drawled, his smile turning into a confident smirk. "Who knows? I may learn a thing or two from my _stuff it with socks_ friends."

* * *

The night couldn't have backfired in a worse way for her.

The moment she walked in with a man built better than three quarters of the guys on the stage, she was doomed. There were thousands of horny, hot women standing nearby, all looking at what she had sitting at her table with her.

After the buffet, Derek had gone to his room to change, and had come back wearing a black, button down shirt with just the right amount of buttons undone at the collar, showing off every muscle he had to perfection, without being obvious. He had black dress pants, too, so perfectly tailored they showed that he _didn't_ need to stuff his pants with socks. He was wearing his usual woodsy cologne that made her drool and want to bury her face in his throat for the night.

Apparently, it did the same thing to every other woman out there, too.

When the first dancer came out, he was nicely built—a touch greasy and overdone—but still nice to look at. She whistled and cheered, before looking over at Derek.

He was smiling at a pretty redhead next to him, who didn't even notice _Lars the Lumberjack_ on the stage. She was staring dreamily at Penelope's best friend, her fingers poised in midair, like she wanted to touch him.

"Are you for _real_?" she asked with a breathy sigh.

Derek granted her one of his perfect smiles, all straight white teeth and sexy little wrinkles. "Flesh and blood, sugar."

Penelope finished her margarita and ordered another one, double strength.

"You okay, there, baby?" Derek asked, arching a brow at her.

"Fine. I'm fine."

The next man walked out on the stage. That one was fantastic looking, with long red hair that contrasted nicely with his lime green g-string. He was built nicely, with beautiful abdominal muscles and pectorals.

"Ooh, that one is beautiful," she breathed.

Derek frowned slightly in consideration. "What do you like about him?"

"His belly," she whispered. "He was beautiful indentations."

"Like this?" Derek asked, and lifted his shirt just enough to show his magnificent six pack. He was arching his brow at her, that teasing smirk on his face, waiting for her to respond.

She glared at him. "Derek, knock it off."

"Just teasing, honey."

She was still pouting, although she didn't really know why she was so upset. He was simply having a good time, and he wasn't interfering. It was the heart of the matter. She couldn't relax, couldn't have fun, because he was there—and she was watching him.

Like usual.

"Are you having fun?" he asked, obviously concerned. All teasing and lightness was gone.

"Not really," she grumbled honestly.

He sighed, slammed down the rest of his beer, and then stood up, reaching a hand to her. "Come on, sweetheart."

She stood and took his hand, completely shocked as he lead her towards the stage, close to the gyrating men. He reached in his wallet and drew out a few dollar bills and handed them to her.

"Hold tight," he said, lifting her by the waist straight up over his head, so she was above all the other women—and closest to the dancer.

The dancer came close by her then, so she could slide a dollar bill into his g-string. She blushed as she did it, and laughed when he thrust his hips at her, wiggling his junk. He brought a hand down to cup her face, winked, and then walked to another woman.

Only then did Derek finally lower her back to her feet.

For the rest of the dancers that came out, they stayed close to the stage, Derek lifting her up to get close contact whenever she squealed loudly for one of them. He kept her margaritas full, stayed by her side, and laughed with her. There were tons of other women nearby, too, staring at him with utter want, but he ignored them. His attention was fully on her.

When the show was done, they headed out back out on the strip. Even with her tipsy brain, she recognized exactly what he had done for her. He'd made something she'd intended on being horrible for him into something extraordinary for her.

And he'd done it out of love—like a true best friend would do.

While they waited for the tram to take them back towards their hotel, she tossed her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" he asked, confused.

She laid her head on his chest, for a moment not caring what it looked like to anyone else, savoring the moment.

"For everything."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews. He made a bad situation pretty good, didn't he? :)...here comes lucky 13..._

As they headed back to the hotel on the crowded tram, they stood, holding a pole in the center, while it cruised down the strip.

Derek asked, "What's the plan for tonight? Another club?"

Penelope glanced over at the handsome, but very tired face of her best friend. Although his tone was energetic, he had darkened circles under his eyes, and he'd stifled three or four yawns since they'd boarded the train.

"Do you want to do a club?" she asked skeptically, raising a brow herself. She didn't think that was possible.

He lost the fight and yawned behind his hand, and then shook his head and grinned sheepishly at her. "Must need oxygen."

She giggled and nodded her agreement. "Mmm hmm. I bet."

"Anyway, it's your vacation, sweets," he said, stretching his arms, and then rolling his shoulders, turning his head side to side. "Whatever suits you, I'll do."

She thought about that for a second and realized just how unfair she had been with her thinking of this. Truly, it was his vacation, too. Last vacation he'd had was going to his mother's about a year and a half ago. He'd planned on going back to Jamaica, but Foyet had come into their lives and shook that up. So, here she'd been, doing everything she'd wanted, without a care for what he'd wanted to do...and he was just as much in need of some relaxation as she was.

"Derek, why don't we head back for tonight, get some sleep, and then you choose what we do tomorrow?"

She watched as he looked more awake at that. "_Me_? I pick?"

"Yep."

He gave her the wickedest leer. "After tonight, I think we'll start at Cheetah's, and work our way through the seediest strip joints..."

She laughed, and then shrugged. "You made tonight such a pleasure, I'd go up to the stage for you and drag over the perkiest, bustiest, limberest stripper to give you a lap dance."

"Oh, make her a blonde," he said, grinning and picking up a curl off her shoulder, "'Bout this color."

"Big boobs?" she teased.

"Oh, hell, yeah! Using a pole like this," he answered with that same naughty grin, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and stroking the pole between them with his long fingered hand.

It was so over the top, she knew he couldn't be serious.

"Anything else I need to be on the lookout for?" she asked, with barely restrained mirth.

He reached a finger up to her face and tapped her pink frames. "She needs little glasses, too."

"Why?" she asked, peering over at him with some skepticism.

"I like that _naughty secretary_ look."

"_Naughty secretary_?" she questioned incredulously, before bursting into peals of laughter.

They laughed together, hanging onto the pole, until they reached the stop for the Bellagio. They exited, wiping tears from their eyes.

"Oh, Hot Stuff," she said, looking over into his eyes. "I hate for tonight to end."

"Me, too, baby," he replied, smiling softly and bringing his hand up to brush an errant curl off of her cheek.

Penelope leaned back, realizing she was getting too close again, falling under his spell. She had to walk a very narrow edge with her time, and be cautious. She wanted to have a good time with him, but she'd come a thousand miles to get away from him, too.

Not only that, two truly beautiful women in their lobby were looking over at her like she was the luckiest girl alive. There was no mistaking their animosity towards her. They obviously thought she had him, too.

She hated knowing she could tell them point blank how wrong their thoughts were.

"Well, you should go up to bed, get refreshed, before whatever we do tomorrow," she said, grinning. "Including Cheetah's."

He shook his head. "I don't need Cheetah's, sugar, but I do want to do some good old fashioned Vegas fun, if that's all right with you?"

"Of course. Who knows?" she questioned, gesturing her head towards the two beautiful girls as they walked past them to board the elevators. "Maybe you'll meet one of those cuties tomorrow."

Derek pressed her floor, and then his, before pulling her into his arms.

"Don't need them," he murmured with a smile, before kissing her forehead. "I got all the pretty girl I need right here."

She laid her head on his chest again, fighting back tears as she held him. How she wished he was serious just once when he said things like that!

"Goodnight, Hot Stuff."

She felt the rumble in his chest as he said, "Goodnight, Penelope."

He kissed the top of her head again, before releasing her to exit on his floor.

She sniffled as she rode the elevator up the other two floors to her room. Must've been allergies...

* * *

Derek's idea of old fashioned fun in Vegas had a lot to do with what she'd always thought of Sin City. Gambling, gawking, food, drinks, and more gambling.

They started at their hotel at nine AM sharp, and then decided to walk the entire strip. Their first stop was for a collector's glass full of a massive, slushy cocktail. Derek ordered her a crazy, fruity concoction, while he had his regular beer.

She made a slurpy sound and shivered, even in the nearly ninety degree heat.

"Good?" he asked, sipping his beer.

"Good," she responded, taking another sip.

They were stopped by a salesperson, and nearly signed up for a timeshare that offered complimentary tickets to a popular show, but changed their minds when they realized they had no time to vacation most of the time, anyway.

Making it down to the MGM Grand, they looked at the lion habitat.

"They're gorgeous," she breathed, taking a look at a large male with his full mane.

"Like this one," he said, rolling up his sleeve to show her his lion tattoo.

She touched and traced the lion's mane on his arm, feeling his smooth, warm skin under her fingertip. It seemed so vibrant, full of life, both the lion and his skin. "Mmm hmm."

He smiled down at her, before putting his hand on her back to guide her. "Come on, honey. Let's go."

Slowly heading all the way to the Venetian, they stopped to gawk at the artwork. The large frescoes painted on the ceilings were extraordinary and beautiful, even to an untrained eye. There were characters strolling, too, like they were transported in time in Venice. They people watched for awhile, before getting yet another souvenir drink and beer.

"Ooh! A gondola ride!" Pen exclaimed, somewhat tipsy, dragging Derek to the canals.

They waited in line, before boarding the boat with another couple.

"The beautiful _signora_ is enjoying the ride?" the gondolier asked, flirting with Penelope.

"Oh, yes," she commented.

"I sing for you, a song of _amore_," he said, beginning an Italian song.

The couple with them told them that they were newlyweds, and then completely ignored Pen and Derek, kissing and holding each other romantically while the gondolier sang his song.

Penelope looked at Derek and whispered, "Kind of sweet, isn't it?"

He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Yes, it is."

"Someday, I want that to be me, Derek," she whispered in a hopeful—and slightly envious—tone.

He kissed her temple. "You will, baby. I know it."

* * *

By the time they left the Venetian, it was nearly seven PM. They stopped to watch a show with some baudy sirens and pirates in front of Treasure Island that was pretty good for a free show.

"The all pirate show was better," Derek commented to Penelope after the show. "They had that last time I was here."

"Oh, much," some woman with an east coast accent added her two cents. "This thing is boring in comparison."

That brought up a conversation with Phyllis from Long Island for ten minutes in the sun, until Penelope's stomach grumbled loudly.

"You'd better feed your wife, sonny," Phyllis said with a smile. "Can't have her getting hungry in Vegas!"

"That's a good idea," Derek said, not bothering to correct the assumption the woman made. He was just going with the flow.

He couldn't help but notice when he put his hand on Penelope's back, she stiffened and stepped away.

_Too soon_, he thought sadly.

"Where for food, Morgan?" she asked.

"What sounds good?"

"Not another buffet," she said, laughing. "I'm still a little full from the last one!"

After hitting a Mirage restaurant for a still huge pasta meal, they ended up just chatting and drinking absolutely delicious wines, while they watched and heard the volcano erupting.

* * *

When they left the restaurant, it was ten PM. He thought about hitting the clubs, but instead, they decided to hit the slots for awhile...and quickly lost about fifty dollars each.

"Whatever happened to beginner's luck?" Derek grumbled.

Pen shrugged. "Guess it doesn't count with FBI people."

Derek laughed and prepared to sling an arm around her shoulder, and then stopped himself mid-air. This was not going to be easy for him. He loved the look of her beautiful, nearly bare shoulders in the peach sundress she was wearing. In fact, he adored her entire outfit. She didn't look like the travel weary waif she'd been yesterday. Instead, she looked like a woman on the prowl.

He knew he didn't like that last part so much.

As they walked through the lobby of their hotel, chatting away, he noticed two sets of male eyes looking appreciatively at Penelope. A strong dose of jealousy swamped him yet again—a feeling he was getting very used to in Las Vegas. He needed to work out again; otherwise, he was probably going to end up kicking some ass. He hated how quickly he became jealous. It seemed unfair that she was so unmoved.

This time, she yawned. "Oh, my."

"It's nearly two," he said. "You should be tired."

"My plan tomorrow?" she asked. "I don't think you'll want to do it."

"What is it?" he asked, curious...and a touch cautious, if he was being honest with himself.

"A spa day," she replied.

"Sounds great to me. I could use a massage," he said.

"Really?" she asked as they boarded the elevator. She must've noticed his nod, because she grinned at him. "Okay. My spa appointment is at two; should we hit the pool before?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He gave her a huge hug, and then kissed her forehead like usual. "Goodnight, Garcia."

She raised on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, and he fought the urge to turn into it, to take her lips with his and never let them go.

"Goodnight, D."

He watched the elevator doors close, and then sighed softly, before he headed to his lonely room.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews, everyone...Ever heard the adage: Two steps forward, two steps back?...Please stay tuned for an author's note at the end of the chapter..._

Penelope was struggling to pull on her one-piece, black swimsuit with the tummy control panel. This new suit was fantastic; it held in everything that jiggled and made her look rather svelte, but it was a bitch to get on. She held the straps and jumped, and then lay down on the bed, tugging and bouncing. Finally, she'd pulled it all the way on.

Putting on her new strappy sandals, her cover up, and her sunglasses, along with a large brimmed straw hat she thought made her look like a movie star, she headed down to the back doors where the pool was. She glanced everywhere, looking for Derek, and finally saw him.

He was standing at the bar, wearing just his board shorts and his black ray-bans, each perfect muscle glistening mocha in the sun. He was talking to a blonde in a miniscule bikini, who kept flicking her hair over her shoulders and laughing. Penelope thought she sounded rather hyena-like; she laughed so much, she must've thought Derek was a real comedian.

The woman placed her hand on Derek's bicep, running her hand along the curvature of his muscle. Derek was smirking at the woman, saying something that made her giggle uproariously again. When she giggled, her highly placed, obviously artificial breasts shook like twin mounds of jelly above the teeny triangles covering her nipples.

Penelope looked down at her own breasts, well contained in the sturdy one piece she was wearing. She looked around the pool. Just about everyone else was wearing a bikini. One woman was wearing an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow polka dot bikini, exactly like the famous song said. There was a girl in a thong bikini, like one would see in Rio de Janerio.

Suddenly, she felt like someone from 1910, practically wearing a swimdress and long pants.

The women around her...those women didn't need to change. Those women were the kind most men drooled over-Derek being no exception. His words about her needing to change rolled through her, along with a sick feeling that made her want to cry.

She didn't realize she was just standing there in front of Derek and his giggling girlfriend, probably pouting and rather mesmerized, until he spoke.

"Baby Girl," he said, his white teeth flashing her a grin. "This is Claudia. She's from Germany."

"Baby Girl?" Claudia asked, looking confused. "Are you..."

Penelope took a deep breath and mentally steeled herself for what she knew she had to do. It wasn't his fault he didn't want her sexually. He'd been so good to her this trip, and this woman was interested. He deserved that chance.

She screwed a hopefully brilliant smile onto her face and said, "No. Derek and I are good friends, that's all. I just wanted to let you know that I am going to lay by the pool, angel fish. Have fun."

Derek frowned for a second and reached for her. "P, sweetheart-"

She stepped away from him. "Don't do this to us, Derek," she whispered quickly. "Remember your promise."

He immediately dropped his hand. "Oh. Yes. Okay."

"Excuse me. You two obviously need some time," Claudia said, giving them both a look like they were crazy, before wandering away.

Penelope watched her leave, and then turned on Derek in exasperation. "See?"

He frowned. "What?"

"You missed out on something because you called me Baby Girl."

Derek snorted. "I didn't miss out on much. She had an annoying laugh."

Penelope almost agreed, before she remembered to be stern. There were still a lot of other hot and gorgeous women-and men for her-around this pool. "Still, I think it's best if we cool it, and stop calling each other pet names on this vacation like we'd originally agreed."

She almost gasped out loud at the thunderous scowl Derek gave her.

A moment later, his face grew shuttered. "Fine, _Garcia_. If that is what you wish, _Garcia_, I would be more than happy to comply, _Garcia_."

"You don't have to say it like you're swearing!" she hissed. "It's just my name."

For a moment, he was quiet, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking; his eyes were hidden behind his dark sunglasses. He took a pull of his beer, and then leaned back and grinned at her.

"Hey, head over to the poolside. There are some stud muffins waiting for you to tap them."

Obviously, whatever he'd been thinking had nothing to do with staying with her for the day.

"Hop to it, sexy thang. Oops!" He lowered his sunglasses to glare at her mockingly over the top. "I mean, _Garcia_."

* * *

Derek growled as he watched yet another stupid young man buy Penelope a drink. She had two drinks with umbrellas in them already; she certainly didn't need another. He had thought she'd looked upset when she saw him with Claudia, but then she'd put him firmly in his place. Now, he had to put up with this.

She was drawing a lot of attention. In a streamlined suit that highlighted her curves and raised her gorgeous breasts to illegal heights, the men were falling all over her. She'd slid her cover up off shortly after she left him, and he'd had to fight with everything in himself not to run over and pull the damn thing back on. She was all legs, hips, breasts, and lips; he couldn't blame the men for looking.

He was finishing a beer and trying to listen to what a rather gorgeous, petite brunette was saying, when he saw one man rubbing suntan lotion on Penelope's back. She returned the favor, and then the man leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

"I'm going to kill him," Derek growled.

"Kill who?"

Derek hadn't realized he spoke out loud. Man, he was pathetic! He chuckled and looked at the first brunette by his side. "Sorry, sweetheart. Just thinking."

She looped her arms around Derek's neck and leaned closer, balancing her tiny but perky breasts on his bicep. "I'm glad. That sounded like jealousy, and I'd hate to think you were taken."

This woman was offering what he needed. It was obvious he wasn't making any time with the woman he wanted. He needed to face facts: he was not what she wanted or needed. He thought there was more there, he was willing to fight, but after today, he realized he needed to give up. This was the second man she'd kissed since they'd started this hellish _vacation._

She was probably headed to the nearest cabana with Joe the Surfer to explore more fun. Meanwhile, he remained a monk.

Hell, no. He was going to take what he could get tonight. It had been an extremely long time since he'd scratched an itch; he was way the fuck overdue.

"Mmm, no," he said, giving the brunette a slow, practiced, devastating smile. Hearing her quick intake of breath, Derek almost cheered.

At least now he knew he wasn't losing his charm; he'd been starting to worry a little!

"Why?"

"Because, angel, if I were taken, I couldn't do this," he murmured, leaning down to give her a hot and potent kiss.

* * *

_I'm going to kill her_, Penelope thought, her stomach in turmoil as she watched a rather emaciated brunette kiss Derek. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. She knew needed to look away, but it was like a train wreck-she couldn't help but look. She didn't think she could do this. She wanted Derek to be happy, wanted him to find someone, and wanted to find someone herself, but she couldn't watch him do it. That was far too painful.

As for finding someone herself, her mind, her heart, and her eyes kept going back to Derek. Someone would flirt with her, and she'd look over at her "always busy with some woman" best friend. None of these men compared to Derek; she didn't want any of them. She couldn't move on to something if she kept thinking of the impossible.

Looking at the woman melting in Derek's embrace, she felt her heart shatter. She'd give anything to know how that woman felt, just once in her life. To be the beautiful, gorgeous woman in Derek's arms, the one he really wanted. Reaching for her drink, disgusted with her own self-pity, she slugged it down quickly.

"You okay, princess?" one of the men nearby asked her.

Starting on the next drink, she muttered in a sulky tone, "Just peachy."

* * *

A few hours later, it was nearly lunch time. Derek's stomach was growling, and the poolside food was not what he was looking for. The brunette he'd kissed earlier had given him her phone number and her room number. She'd wanted to give him her room key, but he'd refused. It had turned him off; that had been beyond desperate in his book.

He looked over to where Penelope was. She'd drunk, swam, laughed, and partied with a group of extremely lucky young men. Despite deciding to move on, Derek had kept a watchful eye on her, for protection sake. He'd started thinking she'd been right all along. She sure as hell didn't need him. She was taking great care of herself.

He stood and wandered over, wanting to see if she was hungry, and noticed she was sleeping in the lounge chair with a magazine on her lap. She hadn't moved for the last fifteen minutes. He'd taken some time just to watch her, savoring how beautiful she was lying there. He didn't want her to get sunburned, so he scooped her up in his arms to move her out of the sun.

She opened her eyes, but just barely. "Hot Stuff..."

"Shh, Bab- Garcia," he said quickly, correcting himself. "Just getting you out of the sun."

With a tiny grin on her face, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "My hero."

Placing a kiss on her forehead, he murmured, "Always."

As he carried her over to the cool shade, she tilted her face up to smile at him. "That's good. I wouldn't want it any other way."

She was so beautiful in that moment, her thickly lashed eyes luminous, still somewhat sleepy, her full pink lips slightly parted, her soft skin warmed from the sun. Moved by a force he couldn't explain, Derek leaned forward and kissed her lips. He simply had to do it, or his life would end as he knew it. He brushed his warm, dry lips over hers, once, twice, savoring the feel of her mouth, wanting with all of his heart to deepen it, before he placed her down in a reclining chair.

She was completely awake now, and looking up at him with obvious shock.

"I'm..I'm going to get us some water," he said hoarsely. He then left quickly, knowing he was as doomed as a man on death row, forever in unrequited love with his best friend.

_AN2: Please check out the story, "Pushing Boundaries". My friend klcm and I posted over on the site under a new name called **CM SoGoodItsCriminal**...It's going to be used for group stories by a few of us, to start: Loveforpenandderek, Harleyzgirl, Fanatical Writer, emzypemzy, JenRar, and Sangreal_7. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_AN: Surprise! It's been awhile since I have done a back to back post; I thought I was due!...I hope you enjoy...I promise to answer reviews as soon as I get a chance... _

Penelope brought her hand up to her tingling lips as she watched Derek walk away like he needed to get to a fire. He'd kissed her, tenderly, sweetly, like she was something special to him, and then he'd taken off like he completely regretted it.

She didn't. It certainly had been special to her; she could still feel the imprint of his mouth on hers, and she was trembling slightly.

Then she thought about the kiss he'd given that other girl by the bar. He'd leaned in, kissed that girl with passion, and probably a little bit of tongue. That girl had looked like she'd been sent into orbit. She was making a big deal out of nothing. The kiss he'd given Penelope barely registered next to that one. It probably meant nothing to him, like a kiss he'd give his maiden aunt.

Sitting there, she couldn't help but feel pissed off. Life was so unfair. She had been so jealous, watching him with the beautiful people who had flirted with him. How could she compete with a willowy brunette or a leggy redhead? She'd had her share of men flirting with her today, and she knew she was nice looking, but she didn't feel like she was "Morgan good looking."

She needed to face reality. He was out of her league, simple as that. Pipe dreams, like she'd always had when it came to Derek. She needed to find someone—someone more Kevin-like; well, maybe a touch better!—and she needed to find him tonight.

Derek came back then with a bottle of Evian® for himself, and one for her, too. "Hey, sweetheart. Ready for our appointment?"

She twisted the top off with a vengeance and took a big sip of water. "Thank you," she muttered.

He was staring at her, confusion written on his face. "Are you okay, honey? Too much sun?"

"I'm fine," she replied primly. "I have an appointment—you do not need to come with—and then I am going clubbing tonight."

"Really."

She nodded. "I came here to hook up, and I am going to do just that."

For only a second, she thought his expression looked pinched, but then he arched a brow at her. "Looked like you were doing just fine by the pool."

She knew it was wrong, but it made her feel better that he had noticed, too.

"Yeah. They were too young, but nice."

"The ladies I met were nice, too." He grinned and waggled his brows. "I got their numbers."

She had to hold back a growl. He'd never change; he would always be the cocky player. She was guessing those women would have wanted to give Morgan more than just their number, if they'd had a chance. "Good for you."

"Let's go," Derek said. As they started walking in the hotel, he said, "And I _am_ coming to your appointment. I called and got myself added to it."

"Added?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah," he answered with a grin that didn't quite match his eyes. "A couple's massage. Ought to be fun for the both of us, getting pummeled, pampered, and rubbed the right way."

"Okay," she said quickly, steeling her face into a mask of control. "I'm glad I get the male masseuse. They have stronger hands."

He pulled a face. "I'm not fighting you for a man touching me. Oh, hell, no! Give me a pretty little Swedish girl with her gentle touch… mmm hmmm."

Pen viciously pictured Helga the Viking woman, complete with horned helmet, in the room with him.

"Enjoy, precious," she remarked, knowing she sounded somewhat snide. "As long as I get Fabio in my room, I'll be happy."

He leered at her in just the right fashion; chills of awareness ran up her spine. "Sweetheart, if you want someone with muscles to rub you… I can do it."

She rolled her eyes, just as her stomach thankfully let out a loud growl.

Chuckling, he put his arm around her. "Come on, let's grab a sandwich before we go."

She couldn't let him touch her. Not now, when she was feeling like this, hurt, angry, _aware_.

Stepping away from his arm, she smiled and said, "Okay."

His grin left. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I forgot. Let's go."

* * *

After grabbing two tomato, mozzarella, and basil paninis, they headed down to the Spa. Derek was feeling tense and pissed; he could really use a good massage. Maybe that would help get his head in the game.

Derek had failed miserably in his plan to seduce his best friend. He wanted her to want him as badly as he wanted her. He needed her to need him, to feel empty when he wasn't beside her. His plan had been to show her a good time, to be there whenever she could possibly have use of him, and to wake her up slowly to what he had thought was obviously there between them.

That "no contact" clause was what killed him. He hadn't counted on his visceral reaction to her. He had a driving need to touch her, to feel her and caress her. He'd always had that feeling, even at the BAU. He didn't know why he hadn't recognized it in the past. He blamed it on her being part of the team, but when he thought about it, he knew that wasn't the truth. He never touched Prentiss, JJ, or heaven forbid, Hotch, Rossi, or Reid like that. It was her, her warmth, passion, fire, caring. Everything about her that made him need to make contact with her.

Now that he knew he loved her, it was worse. When he was holding her in his arms by the pool, he'd had to kiss her. One look at her face, and he knew he was doomed. He thought for sure she would spout more nonsense about their nicknames and touching and send him away, but she hadn't.

Instead, he'd shocked the shit out of her, and then pissed her off.

_She doesn't want this, you idiot_, he told himself. _She doesn't want _you_. Give it up._

Opening the large glass doors to the salon, they walked over to the receptionist. A soft, Asian style song played on a guitar was being piped through the sound system. Derek thought it sounded somewhat familiar, like he'd heard the song at Chin's when they were getting dim sum one night. Some incense and candles were burning, making the room smell wonderful and slightly spicy.

"Ah, the Garcia party. Welcome," the receptionist said. She was wearing a tight white lab coat looking thing that was kind of aseptic looking. She reached into a closet and pulled out two terry cloth robes and two pair of thong sandals that looked like they were made from bamboo. She wandered over to a door and opened it. "The dressing room is over here. On the other side is the mineral pool and waterfall."

"Sounds great," Derek said.

"Herbal tea will be waiting for your when you exit the pools, and the masseurs will come for you." She looked at Penelope. "Would you like private rooms for your massages, or —"

"Private," Pen interrupted quickly.

She looked back and forth between the two of them. "Okay. Enjoy the pools."

"Good thing we're wearing our suits," Pen said with a smile.

The receptionist looked at her with a questioning look. "Why is that?"

"So we can use the pool," Pen replied, as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh, no worries, ma'am. The pools are private," the receptionist said with a knowing smile. "It's just you and your husband. Clothing is optional."

With that, she turned and left a stunned Derek and Penelope.

* * *

"Husband?" Penelope squeaked then stared at the door and at the robes sitting there. "Optional?"

Derek grinned and pulled his t-shirt over his head. "That's what she said."

Penelope watched as he started on the ties to his trunks. Her eyes grew even wider. "You aren't considering... oh, my God!...Derek! No!" Covering her eyes, she turned away from her now naked best friend.

"Oh, come on," he said, as she heard some rustling around. "We're adults. We can be naked in front of each other without feeling completely embarrassed."

She still couldn't face him. "I...I..."

Soon, she felt his warm hands on her shoulders. "Live a little, Penelope. I know you've always wanted to do this. You've mentioned skinny dipping…the freedom of swimming naked like a mermaid? This is a safe place for it. Hell, I'll even turn my back if you want me to."

He lifted his hands from her shoulders, and a moment later, she heard the door click.

Biting her bottom lip, she mulled it over for a moment. She had always wanted to skinny dip, and she had promised herself she wouldn't be a frumpy person this trip. She was going to be wild. She was going to let loose and let it all hang out.

Shimmying out of her swimsuit, she stood naked in front of the mirror for a moment.

She really didn't look too bad. She was shaved and waxed, even bikini waxed except for one little strip of hair on her private area. It was one of the things she'd done at the salon in Quantico that first night when she'd dumped Kevin. She'd had it done again before this trip, in an effort to feel sexier.

She looked over at her tattoo—a little butterfly on her left hip, right next to her pubic line. She loved that little hot pink and baby blue insect. She'd always wanted epiderm artistry. She loved Derek's lion and letters, but now that she had one, she loved her colorful butterfly more. She thought he'd love it, too.

Too bad it was in an area he'd never see.

She slid on her robe and the slippers and walked out. Derek was waist deep in the deep blue water, like a bronzed Poseidon, ruling the ocean. It was too dark in the water to see anything below the waist, and she had to admit, she was rather disappointed. She guessed that his penis would be as magnificent as the rest of his body.

Not that she needed to see. No, sir. She didn't. Really.

"Turn around," she said to him.

"All right, angel."

Sliding off her sandals, her glasses, and her robe, she took a few hesitant steps forward, into the bathwater temperature pool. It smelled beautiful, like the salty ocean. It reminded her a little of her native San Francisco in the morning. Wading to waist deep, she stepped behind Derek, her arms folded over her breasts.

"You can look now."

He turned and arched a brow at her. "When were you going to tell me you got a tattoo?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews, everyone. Here it comes, the big catalyst...After being teased for a long time, everyone would reach a breaking point...This is a huge chapter, but necessary..._

Derek watched Penelope's jaw drop, her eyes widen in surprise, and her cheeks turn vibrantly red.

He was glad. He'd wanted to shock her. She'd nearly knocked him dead, walking out with those long legs, those pink tipped breasts, and that adorable little tattoo that drew attention to her nearly bare pussy.

He realized he was scowling, but he couldn't stop himself. He'd actually growled like some sort of wounded animal. Did she have any idea how appealing she was to him at that moment? He wanted to kick his own ass for letting her tease him like this. He was rock hard, miserable, and there was no relief in sight.

He'd known it was going to be bad, seeing her naked. He'd known it would increase his want, but he'd also thought he might never get a chance again. He'd certainly known it was wrong to trick her, but he'd never claimed to be a saint. So like a teenager in the girl's locker room, he'd sneaked a peak. Unlike most of those teenagers, he had seriously thought he could control his libido.

He'd obviously been wrong.

She was still delightfully pink, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "H..How did you see?"

"Mirrors," he said, gesturing around him with open hands. "There are mirrors all around here—mirrors in the dressing room, lots and lots of strategically placed mirrors."

"Oh, you!" she said, scowling, almost moving her arms, before crossing them even tighter across her chest.

He grinned at her, looking directly at her perfect breasts. "Please. Drop your arms. Splash me. Oh, hell, yes..."

"Oh, come on," she scoffed, pulling a face. "You've seen so many breasts in your lifetime, Morgan, I _know_ these don't phase you."

He scowled at her again. "The hell they don't."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I—"

One look at her told him she really didn't believe it. The woman was crazy. Positively certifiable.

He pulled her into his arms so she could feel exactly how much those breasts phased him...and she hadn't even unfolded her arms.

Her eyes widened, and the pink in her cheeks bloomed again.

"Is that...?" She stopped herself, and was obviously speechless. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh_," he repeated.

She turned an even more scalding shade of red, looked downward, and then back up, finally focusing over his shoulder.

"I don't know why you doubt your appeal. That is crazy thinking." He captured her chin with one hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You turn me on. You have _always_ turned me on."

"Always?" she squeaked, her voice strained like a teenage boy on a hormone high.

"Always," he answered matter-of-factly.

She was very quiet, and her brows were knit in concentration. He could tell she was beginning to let things sink in.

She said hesitantly, "When I teased you..."

"I would've taken you up on it." He looked down into her eyes, with all the hunger he was feeling. It was time to put it all on the table, give it one last shot. Either she wanted him, too, or she didn't, but he was done hiding it.

"D-derek.."

"I still would," he interrupted, and then added, "Any day. Any time."

"Oh, geez, Morgan," she whispered, rather amazed at the turn of events.

"C'mon, Princess," he said, giving her his most seductive smile. "You know there'd be magic between us." He was tired of letting her go with other men that weren't worth her. He'd worship her like she deserved to be worshiped.

Penelope shivered, and then scoffed after a moment. "Yeah, but there'd be magic with ___any_ woman for you, Derek."

He arched a brow. "You think I'm not discriminating?"

She backpedaled a little; he could tell she didn't want to hurt his feelings, "Yes, in some ways," she began, and then she must've changed her mind. "No. No, Derek, you're not."

"What?" he snapped. He was irritated; that was simply not true.

"You've dated everything in skirts since I've known you: brunette, blonde, redhead, black, white, tall, short... usually a reed-thin model, leggy, and skinny."

"But that doesn't mean I'm not discerning about women," he replied.

She pouted at him. "D, I've seen what you've dated, I know what you—"

"Wanna know what I really like?" he interrupted sharply, tugging her so quickly forward that she dropped her arms.

"Excuse me?" she asked, pressed intimately against him.

His body heat tripled the moment he held her closer. He felt like he was on fire, he wanted her so badly. Her nipples were so hard and pebbled against his chest, he thought they could cut him. It gave him hope, made him aware, and turned him on even more. He had thought that wasn't possible; his whole body ached. He felt his erection pressing into the softness of her belly, only intensifying his desire.

He was sick to death of their denial, of dancing around what he really wanted. She doubted him, doubted what he wanted, doubted her own appeal? Well, he was going to tell her, and he wasn't going to hold anything back.

"What turns me on, what I cum to at night when I am all by myself, is the thought of roundness."

She shot him a disbelieving look. "Roundness?"

"Round ass, round tits, round thighs, a rounded belly to cushion me when I thrust." Sneaking his hands to her backside, he pulled her even closer, until there was no room at all between them. "Round, puffy lips... above and below. Damn, woman... _that_ is what I dream about."

She gasped, and her eyes widened like saucers.

He brought his lips near her ear and whispered huskily, "Do you doubt me now?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Garcia," a receptionist said, coming into the pool room. "We're ready for you."

"Remember what I said," he murmured, before releasing her. "Anytime, Garcia; I would've taken you up on it."

Derek climbed out of the pool and turned quickly to grab his robe, but not before he knew she'd caught a full frontal view of him.

___Good__,_ he thought with a grin. ___Try denying __that____, sweetheart._

He donned the robe and walked towards the receptionist, who was blushing and grinning, too.

"R-right this way, sir," the receptionist stammered, blushing and biting her bottom lip.

He never turned back—just followed the woman out the door.

* * *

After a long massage with a Fabio-like masseur, Penelope felt better. She had been so wired...and confused...and horny...

And a touch ticked off.

Nothing made sense. If Derek had wanted her, why had he pushed her towards the men in the pool earlier? If he had always wanted her, why did he want her to change? Better yet, why hadn't he ever said anything about wanting her in the past?

She walked into that massage, a dark cloud over her head, feeling frustrated and upset, and came out well rested. She almost felt deflated, exhausted, it had been so relaxing.

Vince, the masseur, was a dead ringer for the blond model, a complete California golden boy. He was the ideal for romance novel covers... and there was no attraction whatsoever. He was nice to look at—she enjoyed a nicely toned body like every other woman—but that was it.

On the other hand, Vince seemed to _really_ like her. He was very friendly—chatty, even, to her surprise. He'd asked about her husband, and she'd explained she wasn't married. Vince was even more chatty after that. So much so, she just tuned him out after awhile, answering in monosyllables.

He insisted on walking her back to the locker room, his hand on her back to steady her.

"It isn't uncommon to feel dizzy after a massage," he explained.

As she watched a slow grin appear on his handsome face, she doubted that unsteadiness bit.

Some men did not get the hint.

"Well, here we are," he said as he opened the door to the locker room with a regretful sigh. "Thank you, Penelope."

Penelope reached for his outstretched hand to shake it, but he turned it in his palm and made a big deal by kissing it, instead.

"Thank you," she grumbled.

He wouldn't release her hand.

"Hey, beautiful...call me," he murmured, and then handed her his card, winked at Penelope, and walked away.

"So, you really did get your Fabio after all, huh?" Derek said, standing behind them in the locker room doorway. He had his jeans on already, and was holding his shirt in his hands.

Being overwhelmed with all the emotions she was feeling, and remembering the feel of his body against hers, Penelope quickly turned and opened her locker.

"Yes, I guess," she answered, wishing she could just go to her room and go to bed. This was too awkward; she didn't know what to say, what he thought, what—

"Gonna meet him at the club later?" he asked.

"No," Penelope answered, turning to look at him. Out of all the things he could've said, she didn't expect that.

Derek was pulling on his shoe, nearly fully dressed. "Are we going out tonight? You looked cozy with Vince—he's just what you wanted, isn't he?"

Penelope wondered what was happening. Did he want her to find someone else? She was completely confused. What was going on? Did he regret hitting on her?

She decided to play it cool and treat him exactly like she always did. She smiled softly at him. "No, I think I am going to stay in and order room service."

"So you're done with your big search?" he asked, arching a brow at her.

She frowned immediately. "What—"

"I'm surprised that one perfect man did it for you," he said sarcastically, standing up. "I thought you'd enjoy the hunt more."

Suddenly, she'd had enough. He'd flirted like a mad man in the pool with her, and now, he was pushing her towards going out with another man. She was tired of his mixed signals, and she was tired of him.

Her expression was cool, unaffected like his was. "If you think I need to go out to hunt, I don't. I can hook up with someone in my room. I'll dial a man. Vince, here," she replied, flicking the card. "Or adult entertainment; it's in the phone book, you know."

He shot her a thunderstruck look, obviously not so unaffected now!

"Like hell you will!"

She frowned at him, her hands on her hips. He didn't have the right to push her around. "I'm a big girl; I make my own decisions."

But somewhere deep inside, she noticed something. He was still glaring, but he was also looking so upset and unhappy. Kind of like she felt inside, hurt and angry.

She didn't understand why. She had reason to be upset; he didn't. He'd gone from telling her he wanted her, to wanting to throw her away to the first available blond.

How could one hour of massage make things so wrong?

She didn't want to fight anymore. She wished she could turn the clock back. "I think I'm going to bed. Vince did a great job, and I feel relaxed. I—"

"Did you get a _happy ending_?" he snapped, and then his face fell in shock and he looked immediately contrite. "Baby, I didn't mean that—"

She gaped at him. "I can't believe you asked that!"

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart—"

"In case you were wondering, I didn't," she snapped back at him, absolutely furious. "And as pissy as you are being right now, you obviously didn't, either."

"Of course not," he snapped back. "Unlike Fabio, who is exactly what _you_ were looking for, Bridgette wasn't my type."

She was looking for Fabio? Now she was even more confused. "When did I say—"

"Excuse me, Derek?" a husky voice said from the doorway. A stunningly beautiful woman with bright strawberry blonde hair came in. She was one of the most beautiful women Penelope had ever seen. "You forgot your sunglasses."

"Those aren't mine, Bridgette."

The woman turned pink and smiled shyly, before speaking again. "Well, I thought I'd check. Here is my card, in case I can do _anything_ for you again."

"Thanks," he said, retrieving the card.

___Not his type__._

"You know, I really, _really_ am tired," Penelope said with clipped tones after the woman left. "Can you please leave so I can get dressed?"

"My pleasure." Grabbing his room key, he gave her a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "By the way, Garcia, you were right. You are a big girl; you sure as hell don't need me watching out for you."

He left the room with a slam of the door.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_AN: Hi everyone! Surprise...another back to back post for me. Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the reviews, promise to answer ASAP..._

Still furious, confused, and nearly in tears, Penelope dragged herself up to her room, opened an eight dollar bottle of spring water from her mini bar, and then collapsed on her bed. As she lay there, she tried again to absorb what had just happened, and to reflect on the past two days.

The past two days had been wonderful, teasing and having fun, exactly like best friends should be. When she thought about it, it wasn't any different than how they'd always been together. Derek hadn't changed the way he was—he was the same old Hot Stuff she'd always played with—and yet…something had changed. She found herself hungering for him. No other man—not similarly sculpted strippers, not flirty and horny boys, not Vince or Abdul—turned her on like Derek did.

Now she'd gotten what she'd always wanted—Derek had let her go to do her own thing….and she was more miserable than she could ever remember.

She couldn't figure out what changed. First, in the pool, he'd seemed ready to try something new with her, but then after the massage, he was angry and unhappy with her. Her gut recoiled. Maybe he'd thought he'd wanted her after being so close to her, and when he saw Bridgette, he'd realized his folly and didn't want to settle?

She frowned heavily. That Bridgette looked like she wanted to eat him in one gulp. She didn't like that he was probably banging Bridgette in his room at the moment. She couldn't blame him—he seemed awfully ready for sex; she'd felt the evidence of that in the pool.

She couldn't stop thinking about him in the pool, about the moments in that sultry water. He'd turned her on so much, with his low, lustful tone, his dark, hot eyes, saying he'd liked roundness like she had. _Roundness_, he'd said, the word sounding like a caress.

She snorted. He'd probably meant a teeny mound, a la Kim Kardashian, not a pooch like she had. She was not so deluded to think that she was the kind of girl someone like Derek Morgan would think about while he was jacking off!

Closing her eyes, she whimpered dejectedly, thinking that his image was exactly what she'd masturbate to. He was perfection in a male, everything she'd ever wanted.

She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She was lying to herself—he had wanted her; she knew that he had. She knew what she'd felt, burning hot and rock hard against her belly. She'd known the look in his eyes, and she couldn't mistake the erection she had seen when he'd walked out of that pool. Most men looked kind of silly walking around naked, but not him. He was magnificent.

Again, she thought about how wonderful he was when they had seen the stripper revue, how sweet and caring he had been in the gondolas, and how his kiss—his soft, sweet, reverent kiss—when she was half asleep had been so tender and arousing.

She thought, too, how the feel of his body pressed against hers had made her gasp in pleasure and feel alive in places she'd barely known existed. His touch had been pure magic; she'd never had that magic with any other man she'd been intimate with.

She didn't have that magic with any of the men here in Vegas, either, and they were just as nice looking as Derek, and even more willing to sleep with her. She sighed heavily. Deep down, she knew she couldn't really hook up with just anyone. She knew it would feel wrong, like something kinky or dirty, hooking up with just anyone for casual sex.

Maybe she was old fashioned, a fuddy duddy like Kevin had said, but she knew in her heart there had to be _some_ emotion involved for her.

Maybe even love.

Although love didn't always guarantee satisfaction, either. She had tried to have that with Kevin, but they had failed together. He had been a considerate lover, who'd tried hard and learned what she wanted like the back of his hand. He had been very methodical with foreplay: two minutes of kissing, three minutes heavy petting, two minutes sucking her breasts, and two minutes fondling, with maybe occasional oral sex. It should've been a great fit, but it just wasn't there. She wanted it to happen, she really wanted that magic, but it had never happened.

_You know there'd be magic between us._

With the fire she had felt with him in the pool, with the electricity that brewed whenever he came around…she didn't doubt him.

So here she was in Las Vegas, in a gorgeous hotel room on the Strip, surrounded by thousands of hot and eligible men. She'd come hundreds of miles to let loose, to have fun, and to hook up.

And the only man she wanted to hook up with was two floors down here, and next door in Quantico.

* * *

Derek finished his fifth beer and wandered up to his room. He had a severe headache; Bridgette had mentioned he should drink water after the massage or he'd get one. He hadn't heeded her advice. Instead, he'd gone to the bar and gotten slightly drunk.

Now, he had a headache, gut rot, a seemingly never ending hard on, and the driving need to kick the shit out of someone.

The picture of a dye-job blond masseur came to mind as the first person he'd like to beat, and he grinned viciously as he slammed his key card into his door.

Fucking Vince.

Derek realized he had the worst luck out of any man alive. Penelope had described her dream man jokingly, a Fabio-style masseur. Her perfect man she had wanted to have for the night…and lo and behold, he had materialized out of thin air.

Before that, Derek had put it all on the line, letting her know exactly what he'd thought, that what he wanted was her, that she was what he'd dreamed about. Seeing her naked had lit him on absolute fire, and he couldn't tease or be gentle anymore. There was no way she could confuse what he wanted anymore.

He'd thought he was making headway; he'd thought she was as turned on as he was.

And then he saw her dream man kissing her hand, smiling like the cat with the canary…and yet again, he was passed over for another man by Penelope Garcia.

He never knew Penelope had a thing for blonds. She'd never seemed interested in that sort of man before. That stupid masseur was artificially pumped up from steroid use; Derek had the urge to use his cell to call her and tell her Vince's nuggets would be shriveled if she took a good look at them. Not that he wanted her to simply look at his competition's junk. Oh, hell, no. He wanted her to look and then _gag_ at his competition's junk.

This was turning out to be positively the worst trip of his life. He never should've come. He could've imagined back in Quantico that she was doing this kind of shit. Instead, he sat here, seeing it first hand.

Watching this was killing him.

He tugged his shirt off, and then started removing items from his pants. He came across the card he had received from Bridgette. He snorted and whipped it across the room in acute frustration. That was the worst part of this—the punch line to this incredibly stupid joke. He'd been asked by no less than seven women on this trip to have a fun fuck, and he just couldn't do it. He had no desire for them. He was hard, hot, and hornier than he'd ever been in his life, but only for her. He couldn't cum without thinking about her. It was sickening and disheartening. She probably had no such problem, coming like crazy upstairs with her Fabio.

He clenched his fists. That was it. He was back to being like he was three years ago, when he'd told her he loved her—and she'd chosen Kevin Lynch instead. He wasn't a masochist; he wasn't going to do this to himself again. Whatever stupid thing in his brain kept saying _She's the one!_ simply needed to shut the fuck up.

She obviously wasn't the one. He'd shot her more brazen hints lately than he'd ever had for any woman, showed her how much he'd wanted her, and she either didn't get it, or she wasn't interested in him.

He swore it was the second option.

Muttering a curse, he ripped open the button on his jeans. He needed to strip, take an arctic shower, and then try to sleep. He was about ready to unzip, when he was interrupted by a knock on the door

He stomped over and threw the bolt, thinking it was one of the women trying to flirt with him down at the bar earlier. He was in no mood to entertain anyone. "What the he—Penelope?"

This was a surprise. He thought she'd be busy by now.

He knew he needed to apologize first for being such an asshole.

"Sweetness, about earlier...what I said," he began quickly, running his hand over his face. "I am so sorry."

"That's okay. I'm sorry, too; we both said dumb things we should just forget." Penelope smiled meekly up at him. "Can I come in?"

Tossing the door open, he made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Take a seat."

* * *

Penelope glanced at her obviously still irritated and somewhat surprised best friend. He looked gorgeous; she couldn't help but be drawn to where his jeans were dipping low, a trail of hair dissecting his lower abs disappearing behind his open button. She took a seat on his bed, and he sat down next to her. She could smell beer, so she knew he'd been drinking. There was a strong scent of it on his breath, but it wasn't unpleasant.

She glanced over at him, her heart beating so fast and hard, she could hear it thrumming behind her ears. She didn't know if this was a wise idea, but she didn't care. She'd come to Vegas to hook up, she was going to do it…and only he would do.

Now if she only knew how to proceed...

"Baby Girl, what are you here for?" he asked in a questioning, falsely patient tone. There was something very volatile brewing just below the surface.

She couldn't speak. She tried, but she stumbled over her own words. "I…ah…um…"

"What is it?" he asked with some aggravation, and then sighed heavily. "Because if you're all right, I'm gonna watch some TV and go to bed, and I'd prefer sooner, rather than later."

"Watch TV?" she parroted, looking at him blankly.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm beat. I thought I'd order room service and watch a show."

"Oh."

He arched a brow in amusement. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, no," she answered, pausing to think. She wondered if tonight was the right night to be asking this. If he was too tired, maybe he wouldn't want to…um…

After a second more thinking, she asked, "Are you sleepy?"

"Not yet," he drawled in reply, and then grinned wickedly at her. "After slamming a pizza and watching something good and raunchy on pay-per-view, then I will be."

"Oh."

They sat quietly—awkwardly so. Derek was tapping his foot, and Penelope was staring at her hands folded neatly in her lap. It was disconcerting; Penelope didn't remember ever having a moment of awkward silence between them before.

Derek said, "Look, P—"

At the same time, Penelope blurted, "Is your offer still on the table?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews!...Okay, I know I have been updating like a crazy woman, but I am heading on vacation in a day...and I want to leave my dear readers as happy and satisfied as D and P..._

_AN2: A special thanks to Jenny (JenRar) for her reading through and editing so quickly for me. I love you!_

When Penelope began to talk, Derek watched her face, watched the nervousness there, and his heart started to slam against his ribs.

"What offer?" he asked carefully, thinking this was far too good to be true.

"You," she began huskily, and then licked her lips nervously before continuing, "You said something downstairs in the pool at the spa."

He was a touch worried. He had said a lot of things he regretted at the spa...and even more he would never take back.

She was looking away from him now, and she was chewing on her bottom lip. He couldn't stand seeing her look like that, wary and nervous. It broke Derek's heart, got through all the frustration he was feeling.

He cupped her chin in his hands and tilted her face up to see him. He brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, and his smile and his voice were gentle, as he murmured, "Talk, sweetheart."

She smiled back at him, but it was fleeting. "Y-y-you said you would take me up on all my teasing," she stammered, and then added more assertively, "Anytime. Anyplace."

Immediately, the blood in Derek's body began a violent riot, coursing through his body, and then centering in his groin. He could feel his entire being throbbing in anticipation.

"Yes, angel." His voice was a low growl of need that he didn't even recognize. "I did."

Her lips pursed, forming the next word slowly, "W..would you consider now a good time?"

He couldn't control the beaming grin that spread across his face as he reached for her. "How is this for an answer?"

In a heartbeat, Derek gathered her into his arms and began to kiss her with all the pent up passion and lust he'd been feeling all day—feeling for the past six years. He took her mouth with a force he didn't even know he had in him, his tongue aggressively seeking the sweetness between her lips. The pressure tipped her head back, instantaneously opening her mouth. He licked past the barrier of her teeth, stroking his tongue against hers, feeling the heat and desire swirl upward to nearly knock him over onto his back.

It wasn't how he'd first intended to kiss her. He'd been planning to kiss her with tender ardor and sweet passion, the kind of kiss little girls always dreamed about. That went out the window the second his lips touched hers.

In its place, he was giving her the kiss that big girls dreamed about…in their wickedest fantasies.

She swayed against him, her heavy, fantastic breasts pressing against the hard plane of his chest. They were generating so much heat together, it felt like he was burning where she touched him. She seared him with her tongue, the velvet heat of her mouth. He slid his hands slowly down her back, gripping her waist, pulling her closer, nearly on top of him. He couldn't get close enough to her; he wanted to be over her, under her, inside her, behind her. He wanted her surrounding him everywhere.

She was so, so sweet, like wine and apples, tangy and perfect. Her lips were soft, yielding under his. A part of him knew he should lessen the force, but he couldn't, no more than he could stop kissing her. He wanted to consume her and be consumed in the conflagration they were creating.

He didn't want to attack her, didn't want her to feel plundered and marauded; this was their first kiss, after all. However, he had nothing to worry about; Penelope was on his same wavelength: as always, she was perfect for him. She reached her hands up to his head and pulled him closer, devouring him as he devoured her. Derek groaned, renewing his assault. Oh, hell, yes, she was perfect.

He could do this for hours, there was no doubt about it. Derek loved kissing, loved it as much as he loved the actual act of making love, but beyond that, this was a different kiss. Everything about kissing Penelope had this feeling of rightness—the look of desire in her eyes, the swirling heat in his belly, the electric currents zinging in his groin—everything.

Like he should've been doing this years ago.

Through sure strength of will, Derek lifted his head. She was leaning heavily, her shuddering breaths fanning against his face. Her lips were red, swollen, kiss bruised and her cheeks were blissfully flushed in color.

She opened her eyes, wide and luminous in wonder. "Wow."

He gave a smirk, but it was a gentle one. "Is that a good answer, sweetheart?"

She tipped her head back and looked up at him lazily through lowered lashes, before saying, "I think I may need more convincing."

His grin increased as he lowered his mouth to just above hers and murmured, "That I can do."

Penelope closed her eyes, ready to lose herself in that heady perfectness of Derek's kisses. Oh, God, could the man kiss! Her body, on fire before, was throbbing, prickling with sensation as she melted completely into him.

She was expecting another onslaught of hot and horny kisses, all consuming, scorching kisses, but he changed attacks. Instead, this time his mouth was soft, sweet, gently exploring. He gave her little pecking kisses, tempered with deeper movements. It was a complete change of pace from the kisses she had just received. He kissed her with just the slightest pressure, the perfect suction, making her want infinitely more from him. Her world had been spinning before; now, it was tilted on its axis.

Lord, he tasted heady and good. Everything about this was delicious and delightful. His kisses were magnificent; there was such skill, tempered by barely leashed heat and need. He gently nibbled her lips, causing a riot of goose pimples to swoosh over her.

The right time came; he cupped her head in his hands and angled her just enough to delectably deepen the kiss. She moaned loudly, and her body began to pulsate, grow hotter and wetter, in anticipation of more. She pressed herself against him harder, nearly crawling into his lap to get closer. He pulled back more, tantalizing her, and she instinctively lunged forward in an effort to keep the kiss deeper, toppling them backward.

She wanted this thing to never end.

Immediately, Derek slid his hands down her back to her ass, reaching for her bottom and pulling her upward as he lay back. She gasped against his mouth; she was stretched out on top of the firm, warm wall of muscle that was Derek, her breasts pressed against him, her stomach lined up against his fantastic abs. She felt him sliding his hands down her legs, encouraging her to open, to straddle his hips.

A moment of doubt hit her, since she was completely covering him. She wondered if she should move, shift or something.

"Der—" she began, but he cupped her face in his hands and continued his devastating kisses, and any worry she had flew completely out the window. She drew her knees up alongside his hips, the heat between her legs pressing against his increasing erection. A thrill ran through her as she felt his hardness and heat pressing against her softness; her whole body shuddered with the intimate contact.

On and on, they kissed like that, needy, wanting, feeding off of the passion they were feeling. There was such an intense craving, a burning longing Penelope had never felt before. He was everything she'd ever wanted, all that she'd ever needed, confirmed in one incredible, unbelievable kiss. Moaning, she angled her head a bit more, rocked her hips against his hardness, still needing more intimacy and not getting what she wanted.

Derek wrapped his arms around her and rolled her onto her back, never breaking the contact with her mouth. He loved drinking from her, her sweetness, her essence. He felt drunk with lust; he'd never tire of tasting her. He wanted to taste every part of her body, lick her perfect berry pink nipples, savor the saltiness of the sweat of her arousal, and lap a far more intimate fluid from between her legs. He was so famished for her, starving for this woman.

However, somewhere within all the red, hazy lust, Derek never lost sight of whom he was kissing. This was the woman he loved, whom he'd always loved, and she was singular to him, unique. When he was kissing her, he knew he wasn't just exchanging kisses, he was exchanging parts of his soul with each surge of his tongue, each press of his lips. He needed to give that to her, even give much more; he needed her to accept it from him.

He raised his head and looked down at her passion-blushed cheeks. As he sank further into the cradle between her thighs, he could feel her heat thrumming in the same rhythm of his pulsing erection. Reaching down, he meshed his fingers with hers and raised her hands above her head. He watched as her eyes fluttered open, glazed with the same greedy passion he was feeling. Her breath was coming quickly, and she was shivering underneath him.

"Penelope," he murmured thickly, his voice sounding rough and unfamiliar to his own ears from his fervor. He gritted his teeth to regain some of his world famous control, and knew he was failing miserably. "Baby Girl…"

Try as he might, he couldn't get words out. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he needed her and wanted her to need him, but his control was shot to hell, and he wanted her far too badly to tell her what he was feeling.

Still, she moaned in understanding, her eyes burning into his, and she whispered the words he longed to hear.

"Derek...I need you."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_AN: I'm back! Thanks for the reviews, and sorry for the wait. Here comes a little bit of fun..._

After a few long moments of just deep breathing, poised above her, not moving a muscle, Derek finally spoke to her.

"That's good."

Penelope looked up at him with surprise. That was an odd way to answer her—nonchalantly, like he was commenting on the weather. However, she couldn't help but notice the sheen of perspiration on his face, the molten lava in his eyes, and the pulsing, rock hard erection pressed against her.

"I agree," she purred, not at all worried about her appeal.

He helped her sit up as he started kissing her neck and slowly started removing her shirt. "I'm glad. Lift please..."

She leaned back and lifted her arms, and then her shirt went flying across the room, landing in a silky puddle near the entertainment center.

He was working on the button for her skirt now. "That's really good, because I would've kept you here anyway...oh, _damn_, girl…"—he stopped for a second to focus on her chest, but then went back to work—"until you saw how wrong you were."

He was cracking her up, because he was still talking in this average tone of voice, while his eyes blackened and his hands shook slightly. If his nonverbal signs weren't so strong, she'd think he didn't really want to do this.

She pressed her feet into the bed and lifted her hips so he could slide her skirt off. "Are you always so reasonable in these situations?"

He was looking at her soft belly, right where the indent of her navel was. He held his hand over her, like he longed to caress her, but didn't actually touch her.

That made her comment. "Derek? What's wrong?"

"Woman. If I don't look at this methodically, I am going to jump your bones, and this will be over far, far too quickly." He met her eyes, and the intensity she saw in his gaze caused her to gasp. "You make me that crazy."

Giggling gleefully, Penelope stretched her arms over her head like a satisfied cat with the canary. "Really?"

'Yes, _really,_" he commented dryly, before standing up. He started to reach for his zipper, but she scrambled quickly to her feet.

"Oh, no. No way," she argued, her voice a throaty purr. She placed her hands on his chest, running them up to the smooth column of his neck. "If you get to undress me, I get to undress you."

Giving her a naughty grin and a hefty sigh, Derek took a step back and opened his arms in total surrender. He tipped his hips forward at her. "Go ahead. Have at it, pretty girl. Quickly, please."

Penelope grinned, running her fingertips between his pectorals, watching the muscles of his chest leaping under her touch. She trailed them farther down, to his perfectly segmented abs, tracing the line between, the sculpted cuts above his hips.

"There is so much to be said for discipline after all, Derek Morgan," she whispered in a breathy tone. She had the incredible desire to lick him from head to toe, like he was a delicious Popsicle®.

"Glad I please you," he murmured thickly.

She dipped her finger in his belly button, causing another rippling of muscle, and then finally trailed down to his zipper. She looked up into his hot chocolate eyes, and then winked as she started to pull down.

The zipper stuck. She looked down. The metal was having a hard time opening over a certain protrusion...

She glanced back up at him.

"Be careful," he admonished with a grin. "Dangerous territory, there..."

"Well, it wouldn't be dangerous if you didn't wear your pants so damned tight," she grumbled, trying yet again to move the stubborn fastening.

"They're not tight...usually." He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. "Blame yourself, woman."

She was very quiet for a moment, internalizing the effect she had on him. This was by far the most aroused male she'd ever seen.

Then again, she was just as aroused. She thought for a second; maybe she should share that information?

"Derek?"

"What, sweetheart?"

She could feel herself blushing vividly, but forged on bravely anyway. "My panties aren't tight, but..."

"Oh, man, Penelope," he groaned, and she felt the flesh against her fingertips stir in response. "Don't do that to me until you have these off."

She giggled again, and then stood and kissed his chin. "Yes, sir."

It was a little overwhelming.

"Wow," she said.

He was grinning arrogantly. "Thank you."

"No... I mean, yes…_wow_, that, too." She glanced up at him, the odd, mind-boggling feeling of the moment hitting her hard. Yesterday, they were just buddies; today, she...

"What _wow_ did you mean then, sweetheart?"

"It's still shocking me that we're doing this together."

Derek looked surprised, before he began to frown. He took a step backward. "We don't need to do this. Look, I'm sorry I ruined your hook—"

"No!" she answered quickly. "It's just not something I expected—"

"I did."

She simply stared at him.

"Penelope, I need to say something. I'm done hiding this." He took her hand and held it tightly. "I want you. I have wanted you for six years. I have never_ not_ wanted to have sex with you. I could see us doing this a million times—in a million different positions. Over me, under me, against walls, in the back seat of my old Jeep—"

"You had that car three years ago," she whispered.

He arched a brow at her.

"_Wow_," she whispered again, knowing the word was really inadequate, but she couldn't help it.

"I know as a best friend, I shouldn't have been thinking about this, but damn it, that was impossible—"

"I thought it, too," she blurted quickly, her heart pounding in her chest. "I must be a bad best friend, too, because I thought it, too."

Cupping her face in his hands, he murmured huskily, "Do you still want me now?"

"Yes." She didn't get a chance to reply more, before he began again.

"I'm not asking for forever; I'm not asking for months or weeks," he said, leaning forward to kiss her throat, her collarbone, "but I want the rest of Vegas."

Something withered in her chest—a hope that had begun to blossom. She'd wanted more—had hopelessly hoped for more—and she knew this vacation would never be enough for her.

"I _need_ the rest of this trip, P," he whispered urgently. He stopped kissing her, to hold her gaze wrapped in his heated one. "Can you give me that gift?"

She knew she would get hurt, but she couldn't deny him, and the fire in her was too great; the want that he'd stoked needed to be assuaged.

She couldn't deny herself, either.

"Derek," she murmured. "I'm yours for tonight. We can worry about tomorrow when it happens."

He growled as she raised herself on her tiptoes for yet another scorching kiss. There was no doubt; when it came to kissing, Derek was the king. No one knew how to kiss like her Hot Stuff. She found herself nearly falling over—her legs grew weak—as she clung to him, while he gave her deep, intoxicating kisses.

They made love.

**For more of this chapter, please see my profile.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews, everyone...Now that they've finally connected, what happens next?...:D...(PS. I made up the thing about the security cameras, so if you get ideas, don't blame me! LOL)_

As Penelope lay by Derek's side after making love, she had a thousand things rushing through her mind. He had rested above her for a long time, bracing most of his weight, moving just slightly off of her. After trading long, luxurious kisses with her that were almost reverent in quality, waiting for the very last humming of their orgasms to pass, he finally withdrew from her and rolled to her side.

Now, she didn't know what he'd want, what he'd expect from her. She wondered if she'd need to leave or if she should stay, if he wanted to talk or cuddle, or if he just wanted privacy. She was not usually a very good post-coital person—she really didn't have much experience with this—and she was even worse when it came to the awkward morning after.

What did he like to do after he had sex? Was he the kind that just rolled over and went to sleep? Did he run up to the shower? Kevin had liked to shower after sex, making her think he liked to wash away any remnants of her passion. Was Derek like that? She seriously didn't have a clue. She thought—

Her thoughts were interrupted by Derek's long arm reaching over to pull her on top of him.

"Round two," he growled, before giving her a lusty, heated kiss.

She sighed fifteen minutes later, collapsing on top of him in pure orgasmic pleasure. She tried to slide to his side, but he wrapped his arms around her in a vice-like grip.

"Stay," he ordered, his breath ruffling her hair just slightly. He leaned upward and kissed her ear, her neck, her lips, just holding her, their bodies still connected.

She was grinning from ear to ear: So _that's_ what he liked to do after sex!

* * *

Penelope was lying on Derek's right bicep the next morning. She'd never been so comfortable in her life, although parts of her were pleasantly achy. After a night of intense, delicious lovemaking, followed by deep, glorious sleep, she was finally ready to do some thinking—however unpleasant it was going to be.

_For Vegas only_.

This felt so right. Derek's body fit hers perfectly as she rested in the curve of his side. Even the spot on his arm she was lying on felt right. It seemed inconceivable that this could be for just three more days.

She sighed, feeling downright sad, which was such a waste, when her body was positively humming with satisfaction.

"What are you thinking about, princess?" his deep voice rumbled.

Derek was toying with her hair, letting the silky straight strands run through his fingers. He seemed to have a fascination with her soft blonde hair—had always loved to play with it, even before they had made love.

It was another thing she needed to make sense of. If he had wanted her to change, said she needed to change, why did he seem to love the same things? Why did he say he had always wanted her? Always equaled forever in her book; had that changed?

She thought about asking him, thought about seeing if he was interested in forever, but she didn't want to press her luck. She knew he loved her; she loved him, too. They'd always have that, and their friendship. She had to realize that might be all she got out of this, and she needed to be happy about it.

Sort of.

So, she made up an excuse of what she was thinking, instead. "Well, I had so many plans for Vegas, things I had wanted to do—"

"Why can't you do them with me?" he asked, interrupting her.

She rose up on an elbow and looked over at him. "They were things to do to find a lover. You know, I was going to go shopping for sexy new clothes, and then hit the clubs like nobody's business…oh! A Hoover Dam tour, too. I signed up for a Hoover Dam tour."

He gave her a twisted smile. "Hooking up at Hoover Dam?"

"No," she answered with a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Just...well, you know. I guess I have to change what I was going to do."

Derek chuckled. "Nothing you have to change, sugar. You can do all that fun stuff," he murmured.

"Really," she whispered, feeling tingles run down her spine.

"Except you don't need to find a lover," he said. "You already have one."

She smiled as he slid his arms around her and rolled her under him. "Still is an amazing thing to me."

After a happy sigh, Derek said, "Oh, yes…it certainly is."

* * *

Rising, they both dressed and headed down to the shops at Caesar's Palace. Pen wanted to stop and see the moving statues in the forum shops. Derek loved to watch her, watch how full of life and excited she got over things like that. So many people he knew in the FBI were so jaded, nothing thrilled them anymore. He never had to worry about that with Penelope.

Derek loved to indulge her. She smiled at a big fruity drink someone was carrying; a moment later, the identical drink was in her hand.

"You didn't have to do that," she said, taking a sip and rolling her eyes in pleasure. "But I'm glad you did!"

Surprisingly, Penelope was a huge window shopper. That was different than when she was in Quantico. She looked at everything, bought gifts for everyone, but bought very little for herself. She would mention something was beautiful, but then would shake her head and say, "Too much."

Penelope was practically drooling over a spaghetti strapped red dress with a short, flouncy skirt. It had sparkles across the bodice, and some tulle on the hemline. From Derek's point of view, it had _Penelope_ written all over it.

"Going to get it?"

She looked at the tag, blanched, and then shook her head. "No, no… not now."

Derek wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back to his chest. He lowered his mouth by her ear and murmured, "Why don't you go try it on? I would love to see you in it."

She turned in his arms. "Derek… that dress is four hundred dollars. I can't do that if I have no intention of buying it."

"Do they have your size?"

She stepped out of his arms and lovingly touched the fabric, a wistful look of longing on her face. "This one is my size."

"I'm gonna see you in that dress, woman," he said with a smile. "You'd stop traffic."

"I don't know about traffic," she replied, and then smiled bigger. "A crowd at the airport, maybe…"

He laughed and pulled her into his arms again. "Come on. I need a new tie."

* * *

Crossing the hall, they went into one of the many male-oriented clothing stores. Derek was the polar opposite of Penelope; he hated shopping. He set out to buy something, bought it, and left the shop. Penelope wasn't going to allow that.

"Oh, Hot Stuff, try this on," she said, holding out an eggplant purple button down shirt. She touched the front. "It's Egyptian cotton and raw silk, the highest quality."

"It has a nice sheen," he agreed begrudgingly. "You want me to get it?"

"It's gorgeous," she purred. "Try it on."

"No, I know my size—"

She batted her eyes at him, her long, sooty lashes making shadows on her cheeks. "Please?"

"Okay," he said, reaching for that shirt and her hand, "but only if you come in with me."

"Derek… I can't," she protested, but he pulled her into the far stall with him anyway. There was a large bench and a lot of mirrors in the fitting room.

He pulled the t-shirt he was wearing off over his head and started to shrug the button down shirt on. Penelope sat on the bench and looked up at him, watching the bare expanse of his chest.

He grinned at her while buttoning it. "You look like you want to touch."

"I do," she murmured, standing. She ran her hands over the buttery soft fabric, over his sculpted pectorals. Over and over, she traced the contours of his chest, sliding easily over the silky material.

"Unbutton it," he ordered, resting his hands on her waist, caressing the flair of her hips.

Penelope worked the buttons down, releasing them down to his waist, before flattening her palms on his pectoral muscles. She ran her hands up to his neck, to the curve of his throat, and then she started to work her way back down.

Derek shivered when her fingertips ran over his chest. He leaned forward and captured her mouth, pulling her hard against his body. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting her honeyed sweetness, along with a touch of pineapple and rum from the cocktail she'd been drinking. She was delicious, seductive, and heady in her own right.

They made love.

He held onto her, panting and gasping, as she collapsed against his shoulder. They were both still catching their breath, when he whispered, "I suppose I should buy this shirt."

He felt her shake with contained chuckles. "You are a really bad influence on me, Derek Morgan."

Slapping her butt, he disengaged from her and helped her stand. "You'd better believe it."

After getting themselves pulled together, they went to the counter and bought the lovely—albeit wrinkly and slightly sweaty—luxury blended shirt.

**For more of this chapter, please see my profile.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_AN: Thank you so much for your reviews, they make my day...Now on with the show..._

Penelope felt kind of weak and kittenish after making love to Derek in the dressing room. Her legs were rubbery, and her inner thighs ached, as if she'd ridden a trick horse like Annie Oakley; she didn't know if she'd make it back to the hotel room, much less dancing or doing anything else tonight. She was so tired, she didn't even feel like dinner!

In her own defense, she did recognize that she'd only had a couple of hours of sleep...

After walking to yet another boutique, this one with Italian charms, she started dragging her feet. "Derek?"

"What, Baby Girl?" he replied, bringing her hand up to his mouth to kiss it.

"Can we take a break? Find a cafe or something?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

He drew her close to his body and kissed her forehead. "You tired, honey?"

It was a gesture he'd done a thousand times to her before. Since the ban on touching was obviously null and void, he had been constantly finding ways to have his hands or lips on her—brushing tendrils of her hair from her face if a desert wind blew by, caressing her back when they stood window shopping or gawking, resting an arm on her shoulders in a protective embrace, resting his thigh against hers when they sat. She thought about how he was back to normal, how good it felt to have him always touching her, caressing her... kissing her.

She also thought about how that really wasn't much different than in Quantico. It was such a part of their relationship. They were both so touchy-feely, so comfortable with each other.

She thought about the couple in the gondola, how they had caressed one another, and really wished that she could have that ride over again.

"I'm so sleepy," she said, right as a yawn overtook her. "Aren't you? You barely slept."

He gave her a crooked grin. "Sorry, sweetheart. I'm actually energized."

"You are not."

"It happens to some of us after we have sex," he explained.

She scowled at him with incredulous disbelief. That seemed so unfair!

"Oh, now don't look like that!" He leaned forward and kissed her nose. "Tell you what; you go up to your room and take a nap, I'll hit the gym and lift for awhile, and then I'll come get you about seven. I have plans for us—if I can get it all together."

"For what?" she asked, excited.

"Uh uh," he said, shaking his head. "This is going to be a surprise you won't forget."

"I hate surprises," she muttered sulkily.

He gave what Penelope thought was a masculine version of a giggle, and hugged her closer. "No, you don't really. You just think you do."

She grumbled, knowing that he was right, and then looked at her watch. That gave her about four hours to nap and get ready. "Okay, Hot Stuff. You have yourself a deal."

"Good," he replied, leaning down to kiss her lips.

Now _that_ was one thing different than what they'd always done in the past, and she was happy about it.

He continued, "We'll have the surprise, and then we'll get down and dirty."

"I'm not good at that kind of dancing," she said as he lead her to the front door of the Bellagio and down the way to their shared elevator.

Derek arched a brow. "Who's talking about dancing?"

She rolled her eyes and slapped his arm as the door opened for them to board. "Screwball."

Hitting the button for his floor, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was no little kiss; she was starting to think Derek didn't know how to _give_ little kisses. He used his lips to nudge hers apart, and his tongue swept in to claim hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer to him.

They kissed until the elevator alarmed in warning.

"I suppose you should go," she said sadly, her mouth still pressed slightly against his lips.

He raised his head, only to bury his face in her neck. He held her tightly, as if the idea of letting her go was too painful for him to even consider.

"Derek… your workout," she said softly.

"I know." He sighed heavily, and then raised his head. "Me and my damned good intentions."

She smiled at him. "See you tonight, lover."

He touched the side of her face, cupping her cheek, and then turned to go.

Just as he stepped out, Penelope reached forward quickly and slapped his butt.

He turned to stare at her in surprise.

"Get to it, mister," she commanded with a wink. "No getting soft on me."

She could hear his chuckle just as the elevator doors closed.

* * *

Penelope had napped for just about two hours, when the telephone rang. She rolled over and reached for the receiver. Stretching luxuriously, she purred into the phone, "Hi, Hot Stuff."

"Ms. Garcia?"

She sat up, completely alert. "Um, yes?"

"This is the front desk."

She sighed. She thought maybe Derek had put in a wake up call for her.

The woman continued, "There's a delivery for you. Can I send the bellboy up?"

"Yes," she replied. "No problem."

A delivery? She couldn't think of what it might be. Unfortunately, her FBI history popped up, and some horrible things—like a severed head—came to mind. Mercifully, she didn't have too long to wait and dread; a knock sounded on her door fifteen minutes later.

"Here you go, ma'am. There are two boxes," the young man said with a smile. He had braces and looked about sixteen. Penelope handed him a tip, and he grinned even bigger, heading down the hall.

The first box was obviously from a florist and smelled like roses. It seemed that someone had been very, very busy this afternoon. She undid the florist's ribbon and saw eleven perfect red, damask pink, and yellow roses, and one big gerbera daisy, her favorite flower. She lifted them up, smelling their fragrant blossoms. There was no card, but she knew exactly who they came from. It was a shame, there was no vase to keep them in. She plugged the bathroom sink, filled it, and stuck them inside the basin.

Curious, she went to the other box. That one was huge, rectangular, and white, with a large red ribbon tied around it. Excitedly, she untied the ribbon, opened the lid, and shuffled through tissue paper.

"Oh… ohhhh… my…"

She couldn't form words; her throat constricted, and tears came to her eyes. It was her red dress—_the_ red dress from the shop earlier. Carefully, she reached for the straps and began to unfold it from the box. A small envelope fell onto the floor.

She lay the exquisite dress aside, picked up the card, and opened it.

_Baby Girl,_

_I really wanted to see what you looked like in that dress. This seemed to be the only way to get you to try it on._

_Love, D_

Holding the card against her heart, she smiled with watery eyes.

_"_I'm going to have to yell at you for this, Derek Morgan," she said softly.

Still smiling, she kissed the note, put it back in the big box, reached for the dress, and then made her way into the bathroom to start getting ready for their night.

* * *

Derek was just leaving the shower, when the phone rang in his room. With one towel looped around his waist and the other slung around his shoulders, he trotted over to answer the phone. "Yeah."

"Mr. Morgan?"

"Yes?" he replied, using another towel to dry his head and chest.

"You have a message here for you from a Ms. Garcia," the operator said. "May I send a bell boy up with the note?"

Derek looked at the clock. It was almost six thirty. He had time to shave and get ready before he had to get P. "Sure. Thanks."

"No problem, sir."

Derek had finished drying off, shaved, and was getting dressed, when the bellboy knocked.

"Mr. Morgan, sir?" he asked, holding out the letter.

Derek gave a decent tip to the young man, who smiled brilliantly with his metallic grin and ran down the hall.

_Hot Stuff,_

_Come find me in the lounge on the second floor._

_Love, P – aka The Lady in Red_

Derek smiled and tapped the card on the back of his hand, before heading into the bathroom to finish dressing.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 **

_AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! I wanted to post this AM, so I'm a touch behind on review replies...I'll get to those ASAP..._

Derek found his way up to second floor and to Petrozzo's Piano Bar about five minutes after seven o'clock. The jazzy music was playing softly, and the lighting was low and elegant. There were a lot of people in the bar, mingling and flirting, but there was only one person that caught his attention and took his breath away.

A beautiful blonde was sitting at the bar, her hair casually piled on top of her head in a riot of curls he knew from experience was soft to the touch. There were some glittering rhinestone barrettes holding her hair up, catching the light and highlighting the thick mass. They matched the glittering rhinestones on the front of her red dress.

She took a sip of her martini—something he knew she didn't normally drink—and closed her eyes, leaning her head back to let the cool liquid slide down her graceful throat. She must've known that he was staring at her; she turned and met his eyes, smiled, and then stood to greet him.

The dress was worth every penny he'd spent on it. It hugged every luscious curve, highlighted every bountiful swell to perfection. The skirt with the shiny, see-through fabric by her knees accented her well turned legs, as did the high heels she was wearing. She must've gone shopping this afternoon after she woke up and received her present; they were such a perfect match.

He didn't realize that he hadn't moved a step until she walked directly in front of him. He was that transfixed by her beauty.

"Like the dress?" she asked hopefully, her red lips gracing him with a beaming smile.

"Oh, yes," he said, picking up her hand and kissing it. "You look exquisite."

"It's a wonderful present," she murmured. "Thank you."

"It's a present for me, too," he said, plainly. "I get to see you wearing it."

She blushed prettily. "It's far too much, but I still appreciate it. And the roses."

"You're welcome," he replied, finding it hard not to just stare at her. He could stay there all evening, just watching her, but he had other plans. "We'd better leave, or we'll be late."

Nodding, she took his extended arm as they headed to the lobby.

* * *

She thought that they were going to see a show or something—maybe Cher or some magician; she'd love that—but she realized quickly she'd been wrong. They took a waiting cab to a highway not too far from the strip.

"Not a show?" she asked, just to be sure. She didn't know what was playing off the strip.

He chuckled. "No, honey."

And then he was silent.

"Tell me," she whined, curiosity killing the Penelope.

"You'll see."

She leaned into his side, pouting somewhat. Still, she couldn't complain. Relaxing against Derek, his warm, muscular side, was not a hardship, even if she did want to know what was going on. She was chatting with him about nothing important…and then she saw the sign for an airstrip.

"Derek," she gasped in excitement. "We're taking a flight?"

"Helicopter ride," he corrected. "I saw they had sunset Grand Canyon tours, and I couldn't resist."

"Oh! Oh, my God!" she squealed. "This is incredible. I feel like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_!"

He gave her an odd look. "Really?"

"Mmm hmm,"she said, sighing happily. "You know, that's my favorite movie. I told you that, right?"

"How does it remind you of that thing?"

"The pretty red dress, the expensive hotel, the flight trip, the handsome billionaire—"

He interrupted with a snort. "Got that last part wrong."

"Still...close enough," she replied, knowing she still was beaming. Her cheeks were sore from grinning so much.

"I don't remember much of that movie," he replied.

She gaped at him. "How can you say that? Everyone our age loves it."

"It wasn't an action flick, so it was regrettably forgettable," he replied with an apologetic look. "Sorry, baby."

She frowned a little. It was neat to think he had that touch of romantic in him, too. Then again, he did always choose an adventure or sci-fi movie when they watched them together. She made him watch all sorts of chick flicks, so it was a fair turnabout.

She snuggled into his arm closer, still smiling. "It doesn't matter. You're still enough like Richard Gere to make any girl's fantasy come true."

"Well, thanks for that," he said, chuckling, as he kissed her forehead.

She sighed and rested against him on the way to the airstrip.

* * *

They arrived at the airstrip and boarded the helicopter, sitting side by side, so close, their thighs lined up hip to knee. There were three other couples on the helicopter.

"Fasten your safety belts, folks," the pilot said, "and get ready for one of the best experiences you will ever have."

Penelope held Derek's hand and watched out the window as they ascended into the sky. The sun was just beginning to set, turning the sky awash in desert colors of pinks, oranges, and purples. The farther from the lights of the city, the more fantastic the setting sun in all it's natural glory looked.

Penelope asked, "How long until we reach the Grand Canyon?"

"It's forty-five minutes across the desert, a three and a half hour flight, total," he said. "I have room service reservations for dinner in your suite for us when we get back."

She blinked, amazed he'd thought that far ahead about this. "Wow. You're doing it again."

"What's that?" he asked, confused.

She leaned closer and kissed him softly. "You're making me want this vacation to never end."

She watched as a brilliant smile, far more beautiful than the setting sun, crossed Derek's face, before he leaned in to kiss her again.

The tour guide/pilot pointed out all sorts of different landmarks and beautiful things for them to see, and took them on multiple sightseeing vantages of the Canyon. It was lit up in beautiful colors. When they landed, they were lead to a picnic area, where champagne and strawberries awaited them.

"This is unbelievable," she said later, sipping a glass of champagne, leaning back in Derek's arms. There were blankets around; each couple had their own private place to rest and relax.

"Do you like this?" he asked.

"I love this," she answered, turning to look at him.

He was staring at her, watching her every move, smiling at her. Her heart swelled, thinking about how much he cared, how much he'd put into this day. But then he looked away from her, at the magnificent lights of the Canyon.

"It's amazing that we go back to Quantico in two days," he said with a heavy sigh.

Her heart ached when he said that. Two days...Cinderella turns into a pumpkin again and loses her prince.

"Time to board," the pilot said.

Derek helped her to her feet and looked at her with concern. "Baby, are you okay? Your eyes are watering."

"Desert air," she lied, giving him a smile. "Irritates my eyes."

* * *

The flight back included seeing the Vegas strip, lit up as a mecca to those seeking indulgences of all kinds. It was really spectacular, but Penelope was still feeling a little down. She looked over at Derek's handsome face, saw the pleased smile on his face, and she knew she couldn't keep feeling sorry for herself.

_Any woman would die to be his for an hour. I've been his for two days. I'm damned lucky._

When they landed, the car that took them to the airport was there again to take them back to their hotel. They headed back to her room, where room service was indeed waiting with a gourmet, three course meal for two, and a fantastic bottle of pinot noir.

"My favorite," she murmured, her eyes getting misty again. He always ordered her favorites.

They ate the dinner together, chatting like old friends—because that's what they were—before it was time to get ready for bed. It kind of unnerved her. Being so like they were in Quantico made her wonder if she was being presumptuous, wanting to sleep with him tonight.

She didn't really worry—Derek seemed to always want her here—but it didn't matter anyway. She really wanted him, and she wanted him now. After a moment, she decided she needed to bite the bullet and take the bull by the horns.

"I'm going to get ready," she said, standing up.

"Okay, Baby Girl."

Penelope went into the bathroom and saw a little pink bag with a bow on it and a card.

_One last present for tonight. D_

Undoing the tie, she dug through the tissue paper and pulled out an elegant, long, cream satin nightgown with spaghetti straps. It was absolutely beautiful and reminded her again of _Pretty Woman_.

Shrugging it off, she unzipped her dress, hopped into the shower to wash herself with her favorite shower gel, dried off, and then brushed her teeth. She slid into the satiny nightgown, feeling the fabric caress her bare skin. She undid the clips in her hair and brushed out the tangled mess, before entering the bedroom again.

Room service had already removed the cart dinner was served on, and Derek was already laying in bed, the blankets pulled up to his waist. He looked drowsy, but happy, as he flipped through a _Vegas Today_ magazine.

Padding over to him silently on the heavily cushioned carpet, she stood near the side of the bed and waited for him to look up at her.

"Thank you for everything," she said, leaning down to kiss him.

Then, before she knew what was happening, in a flash of movement, he reached out and pulled her into bed with him, rolling her under his body.

He was solid and warm on top of her. He'd pinned her arms over her head with his hands, as if he expected that she would try to escape—which was a silly thought; she didn't plan on going anywhere—and locked his molten gaze with her surprised one.

"I'm going to tell you this, and I am only going to tell you it once," he said with all seriousness.

She waited, her chest heaving under his in anticipation.

He suddenly smiled a wicked grin. "It is perfectly okay, Penelope, to kiss me on the mouth."

Her eyes widened, and she gasped as his eyes began to twinkle. A direct hit from _Pretty Woman_…

"Oh, you!" she said, knowing damned well he'd known about her favorite movie all along.

But she didn't mind, as he lowered his head and kissed her...on the mouth, and all sorts of other places.


	23. Chapter 23

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**Chapter 23**

_AN: Thank you so much for the reviews...I apologize in advance for this chapter, but it was needed..._

Penelope felt the need to sneeze.

It was really odd, considering she'd been in a solid slumber before this need arose, worn out from making love to Derek after their adventure. She didn't bother opening her eyes; she merely brought her hand up and rubbed her nose until the need passed.

A second later, she felt something tickle her nose again. Something that smelled lovely, like sweet roses...

She opened her eyes minimally, to see her handsome Derek on his elbow, tickling her with one of the roses from the bathroom sink. He was smiling down at her, his eyes twinkling with merriment.

"Morning, angel," he murmured, drawing the rose back so he could lean down and kiss her.

Penelope instinctively went to kiss him back, but then thought about the man with the halitosis on the shuttle to the hotel. She knew her morning breath wasn't usually the greatest, and—

Derek didn't let her think about it. He swooped down to give her a massive, toe curling kiss—the man really did not know how to give little kisses!—followed by wonderful, pecking kisses that made her want more—and proved to her that yes, he did know how to give small kisses, after all.

"Morning," she whispered, stretching like a cat, pampered and satisfied.

"It's our last day in Vegas together," he said, still smiling down at her.

That hit her like a bucket of cold water, and rising panic began to consume her. She could continue being here, being with him, for a lifetime. She wasn't ready end this.

Then she thought about it. He'd mentioned it; did that mean he was ready?

Penelope had to fight not to let the smile ease off of her face. She hoped she was successful as she answered, "It is, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said. Before he'd spoken, he'd reached over and caressed the side of her face, her neck, with the back of his fingers, and was still touching her after the words were done. "Hard to believe we'll be back in Quantico, and all of this will be just a wonderful, distant memory."

This time, she nodded, and had to fight tears coming to her eyes. He was still smiling—somewhat wistfully, but smiling. Obviously, he was fine with all of this ending.

Proving once again that it was just her who was going to have a broken heart.

She knew now, more than ever, that she had fallen completely in love with Derek. It was hard not to. He was sweet, kind, funny, considerate, sexy, loving, great in bed...and not hers. He'd asked for just a couple of days—the time they had left in Vegas. Nothing more.

"Is there anything else you would like, anything at all that you want to do, before we have to go?" he asked, listening keenly to any ideas she had.

"I don't know," she said, trying to keep the petulant tone out of her voice.

She must not have succeeded this time, for his next question was, "Sugar, are you all right?"

"I'm great," she lied, trying to think of something good to tell him, besides begging him not to break her heart.

_That would be cool,_ she thought miserably.

"I'm just sad that the vacation went so quickly," she added.

"Weekends in Vegas tend to do that. However, I, for one, plan on making our last moments here memorable…" He let his words trail off, and his eyes turned smoky dark, even though he still had that warm smile still on his face.

"How's that?" she asked.

"Starting with this."

A second later, she was showered in rose petals as he sprinkled handfuls of the delicate flowers over her. She giggled, brushing the fragrant wisps off her belly and her breasts, but he caught her hands.

"Let me take care of that," he murmured, his deep voice stroking over her like a caress.

They made love.

"That was one for the books," he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

Her heart clamped in her chest. To her, it was a union of souls. To him, it was a last hurrah.

She smiled back frostily, but answered honestly, "Yeah. Not something I will ever forget."

And at that moment, Penelope realized she needed to protect her heart…the last tiny shard remaining that kept her alive.

Pronto.

* * *

That day, they went to the Hoover dam and visited a chocolate factory afterward, but Derek could sense that something was off with Penelope. He was doing everything he could, everything he could think of to make her feel special and to show her that he was interested, without pushing.

She was frosty, cold, seemingly uninterested in everything they looked at…and even in him.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked, wondering if he'd done anything wrong.

"I'm fine," she said with a smile, and then turned to look out the window. "I'm just glad I'm going home."

He was stunned, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. She wanted this to end? He wished she would look back at him and show him an ounce of the woman he'd known these last few days, the woman that he'd always known.

But she didn't.

He swallowed hard, but it did no good. He answered hoarsely, "Really."

She shrugged, staring out the window. "Too much of a good thing. Vegas equals overindulgence. It'll be good to get back to normal again."

He was starting to think he'd gone about this all wrong. Was he being too clingy? Did he force his way with her too much?

He didn't know what had happened. All he knew was that he had reached for her in the chocolate shop…and she'd cringed from his touch.

They made it back to the hotel, not speaking very much. Derek had chattered, but Penelope was quiet.

"Would you like to go to dinner?" he asked hopefully. "There's supposed to be a great buffet—"

"Look, I'm not really hungry, and I have an early flight tomorrow," she interrupted. "I think I'm going to bed."

"You don't feel well?" He stared at her, trying to read her still. "Baby, what's wrong? You've been unhappy all day."

"Nothing's wrong. I feel fine," she answered quickly. "I just want to go to bed."

He needed to do something, anything to make this better. She mentioned her bed. He could make things better in bed. He knew how to please her there. A slow, seductive smile crept on his face, like he had used so many other times with her this vacation. "Good. I'll come with and order—"

"No, Derek," she interrupted again. "I think it is best if I go up alone."

"What?" he asked, his eyes narrowing and his brow furling, as a profound ache filled his chest.

_This is it. She's done with you, _the nasty part of his subconscious told him, and the ache grew to a solid burn.

She turned away from him. "I'm sorry, I just think—"

"You promised me."

Derek cringed at his voice, sounding lost again, like he did when he'd talked to Rossi, when she hadn't wanted him last time. She didn't want him…he was never her first choice, she'd never wanted him with her at all. He just wanted her to give him a chance…

_She can't even give me three days. I'm not worth three whole fucking days. _

He tried again, but his voice was not potent in the least. "I get Vegas, Penelope...That's all I wanted, all I asked for." He knew he was begging, but he wasn't ready to let go. He reached for her hand, squeezing it. "Can you give me at least that?"

She turned and looked at him, tears streaming down her face, shocking him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, yanking her hand out of his grasp, before turning to run away.

**For more of this chapter, please see my profile.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24 **

_AN:Thank you for the reviews. It is so nice to hear the emotions you are feeling for P and D. I kinda fell in love along with them, writing this trip to Sin City!..._

Derek watched her walk away, tears in her eyes, knowing one thing. He'd made a huge, colossal, monstrous mistake. He'd gambled in this city that made and broke men far greater than he, and had lost miserably.

He'd lost the love of his life—the one woman who could make it all right, had always made it right—and he'd never get her back.

He couldn't regret it. That was the part that killed him. He'd had to take a chance, had to see if she could see him in a different light. He was glad that he'd had the courage to try. He could never regret making love to her, either. It was something he would never forget.

Thinking back to this morning, when she was in his arms, he'd panicked. She'd looked at him like she was done already, back in Quantico, away from him. She was beginning to shut herself down, close herself off. So he'd done the one thing he knew he was good at; he'd made love to her.

Derek had never been good at verbalizing how he felt. He could sum up other people in a nutshell, profile them, and lay out their qualities, but he couldn't do it to himself. He couldn't do it to Penelope, either. She was far too close for him to read. She'd always thought he did, used to give him hell when he'd say some comment, and take it as profiling. It hadn't been profiling at all; he'd just paid close attention to her—she was his favorite study.

He thought about all the times he had told her he loved her. He'd botched them so terribly. The first time he'd said it, his heart had been in his throat. He had nearly lost her—it scared the hell out of him. He'd known the moment after she had been shot how very much she meant to him. It had taken something that severe to kick it through his stupid skull that he wasn't playing around—this was the real deal.

So when he'd said it, finally told her what was in his heart, it had been exactly like this: "_I love you, you know that, right?"_

He cringed and ran a hand over his face. Yep. Lots of confidence and strength in _that_ declaration! It had been a fucking _question_, not a statement—the boldest statement he'd ever have to make.

No wonder she'd chosen Lynch!

And then, this evening, he'd stood there, begging her to stay, wanting the last few minutes to love her, to try to get her to change her mind.

He'd already had six years...what good would it do to have a couple more hours?

What was it about this woman that made him fumble and lose his cool? She was supportive, brought him up, complimented the hell out of him. She was his very best friend, she knew everything about him, and yet, he couldn't declare what he felt the most in his heart. He had been so afraid to lose her, lose what he already had—the best thing in his life—to take that step.

And now, he didn't even know if he had her friendship anymore.

She'd deserved better all these years. He should've given her better, and he hadn't. He thought about his conversation he'd had with Rossi.

"_What are you going to do to show __her and__ win her back? Walk up and say 'I'm no longer stupid; I love you?'"_

He snorted. As stupid as it had sounded, maybe that had been the better way to go. At least that way she would've known without a doubt exactly how he felt.

The more he pondered it, the more he thought she still should know. She should know how he felt, even if she didn't reciprocate. He thought she should know how she hung the moon for him, and had for years now. She deserved that knowledge.

He smiled wistfully to himself, still standing there in the lobby, and nodded. He was done being a chicken shit. It was time to man up; actually, it was way over due.

He took off at a jog towards the elevators leading to her floor.

* * *

It didn't take very long before Penelope's tears turned into full fledged sobs. She'd barely made it into her hotel room, she was crying so hard.

How could he have asked for her to stay a moment longer, when he'd said straight out that all he'd been asking for was the time they had in Vegas? Couldn't he tell in how she made love to him, how she responded, that this wasn't just an every day affair for her?

She'd tried. She'd tried to make it simple and easy, just sex, but she should've known better. Nothing they had ever done was simple and easy. There was more depth in her bond with Derek than there was depth in the Pacific Ocean. He had always been the one she'd gone to when she was sad, happy, excited. It was one of the many things Kevin had hated about her friendship...

"_You two have an emotionally inappropriate relationship, Penny," he whined._

"_I don't understand," she lied. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she didn't want to face up to it. _

_He arched a brow at her. "I can come up with examples, if you'd like."_

_She didn't like it, but she didn't answer him, either._

"_Last month, your great aunt Ethel died, and you called _him _first, not me."__ He frowned sadly at her. "Shouldn't you have called me...your boyfriend?" _

"_Derek loved her cookies," she mused inadequately. It was the truth; no one had made maple crisps like Ethel, and D had scarfed them down._

_Kevin gave her a look over the top of his glasses. "Penelope."_

_She had the good graces to blush._

"_You know that your relationship with him is odd, and I really don't care for it," Kevin said, putting his arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze, "but I put up with it because I love you."_

She had felt terrible when he'd said that, because she'd known even then. Kevin was her lover, but she was _in love_ with Derek. She'd shared her life, her dreams, her wishes with Derek, and her body with Kevin. She hadn't thought she could have more with him, and with the comments she'd heard him say about her needing to change...that had solidified her thinking.

She thought about that again...

Come to think of it, she hadn't changed very much at all. A new hairstyle and some clothes, and that was it. She'd been herself this entire trip, and yet, Derek had seemed to have wanted her like she was a femme fatale. He'd made the offer to make love to her first, had seemed dead serious—and seriously aroused—when he'd said it...and she'd been in a pool, with no makeup on and not a stitch of clothes.

That was the truth. He had wanted her. Oh, he'd definitely wanted her... No man could fake an erection like the one he'd had!

She stopped crying suddenly. She reached for a tissue, blew her nose, and continued to think.

_I want you. I have wanted you for about six years. I have never not wanted to __have sex with you._

Really, had that sounded like a man who wanted her to _change_?

They'd made love like bunnies, multiple times, in all sorts of positions. He'd told her she was beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, an angel. He'd looked at her like he was famished for her—devoured her like he'd been famished, too. He'd had a never ending supply of lovemaking, as had she.

They were like Pringles®...once they popped, they couldn't stop.

She thought about his kisses, like they'd come from somewhere deep in his soul. She highly doubted that he'd kissed every woman like that. No, he'd kissed her...he'd kissed her...

He'd kissed her like a man in love.

Everything he'd done on this vacation, every sweet, caring, beautiful thing _could_ be chalked up to friendship, but Kevin was right; it was a damned inappropriate friendship! The trip to the Grand Canyon, the dress, the roses...his little comments. Really, it hadn't been any different from back in Quantico, because he hadn't needed to be different. Their friendship had already been love.

_I get Vegas, Penelope. That's all I wanted, all I asked for. Can't you give me at least that? _

Gasping, Penelope rethought that statement. _At least_. He'd said ___at least_. Like he'd take more, if she'd give it to him. She'd been so upset, she hadn't really listened to him.

"Oh, Hot Stuff," she groaned.

They were a couple of idiots.

Sighing, she rose to her feet and headed to the door. She needed to see him and clear the air, once and for all—get the truth out there boldy for the world to see.

Even people as blind as they were.

She slid her shoes on, grabbed her purse, and flung the door open.

Derek stood there, his hand poised to knock.

She wasn't really that surprised to see him standing there.

"Derek..."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews!...Here we go, folks...the moment we've been waiting for...Sadly, only the epilogue left on this one after this... _

She had a premonition-that weird feeling of deja-vu that sometimes happened- that this would be a moment she would never forget. Penelope's heart began to thunder in her chest, and the fine hairs on her arms were standing up. She wished she had a video camera to tape what was going to happen.

"I need you to know something, and I have to tell it to you now. You don't have to say anything in return," he said quickly, deadly seriously, no trace of a smile on his face.

As she watched him, standing there in her hotel doorway, she couldn't help but have a surge of happiness. The urgent, downright endearing look on his face told Penelope she was correct in her original assumptions.

This man loved her something fierce!

Suddenly, she was filled with a delicious calm, and a warm feeling of love swept over her entire body. She knew immediately that everything was going to be all right. No, better than all right—everything was going to be absolutely perfect.

"Come on in, sweet boy," she murmured with a smile, trying to ease his fears. "We'll talk."

"Penelope, I love you!" he burst out, as if he couldn't stop the words. She had no doubt he'd absolutely needed to say that—it was going to explode from him otherwise. It was such a beautiful reaction—and so adorable—she wanted to squee like a fangirl.

She was a fangirl; the number one fan of their love.

She smiled and answered back honestly, "I know, honey. I love you, too."

"No, P!" he snapped, and then looked crushed for snapping at her. "Not...that...I...I mean, you and I..._shit_!"

Poor baby, he was fumbling so terribly over his words. It was the weirdest thing for her; she had always known him to be the most suave, the most debonair, the sexiest of players. He could charm women colder than Strauss into eating out of his hand. He'd never had a parking ticket in the six years she'd known him; every meter maid found a way to get rid of that paper when he'd smiled their way. She, on the other hand, had fourteen of them. Parking around Quantico was dreadful.

And now, he couldn't put two words together, like his tongue was tripping over his eye tooth, and he was blind to what he wanted to say.

That, for some reason, made her smile even more. He was so boyishly cute, so tenderly endearing. This obviously meant a lot to him; _she_ obviously meant a lot to him.

"Derek, I know," she repeated, standing closer to him.

He stared at her, and she could sense the intense longing in him, so desperate to say the right words. It was so strong, she could almost feel it.

He raised his hands, but let them drop in frustration. "Penelope, you don't understand—"

"Yes, I do," she said, trying to be reassuring.

He ran a hand over his face in acute frustration. "Baby Girl, you need to listen."

She sighed. For some reason, he really wasn't listening. She could make this a lot easier if he just paid attention, but she didn't want to argue with him.

After all, since he'd just made her the happiest woman in the world; fighting with him wouldn't be too keen!

She took a seat on the bed and patted the spot next to her. "Okay, Hot Stuff. I'm listening."

He hesitated just a moment, like he didn't quite trust himself to be that near her, but then gave up the fight and took the seat anyway.

"Promise me you'll simply let me talk," he said, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

"Yes, sugar," she said, making a cross over her heart. "Scout's honor."

He closed his eyes, almost like he was in pain, and then blew out all of his air.

"Penelope, I love you."

She nodded. "We've established that."

His look quieted her immediately.

"Penelope," he began, and then turned to face her and took her hands. "Sweetheart, you mean the world to me. You are an extraordinary, beautiful, wonderful, terrific woman, who I have had the great honor of knowing—"

She'd really planned on being quiet, but she couldn't help herself. She simply had to comment. "Remind me to hire you to do my eulogy."

"P, you promised," he complained.

She grinned cheekily. "I'm not a scout; that promise didn't count."

"Baby—"

"Fine, fine," she said. He could really be such a drama king sometimes! She wanted him to say it, let her say it, too, so they could get to the good stuff...lots of kissing!

"Woman, I love you—more than I ever thought I could love someone." He cupped her cheek in his hand, running his thumb lovingly, reverently over her cheekbone. "I want you, I _need_ you, because with you, I'm alive."

He paused, and then said, "Penelope, I want you to be my lover, my girl, for as long as you will have me."

He became blurry as tears misted her eyes. "Derek..."

Sadness drifted over his face, and before she could ascertain why, he lowered his hand and stood. He started pacing like a caged tiger. "Baby, I don't want to hurt you. I would rather cut off my right arm than hurt you. But I thought you needed to know this."

She sniffled. "D..."

"I didn't lie when I said I wanted you forever. I've been a damn fool. I want you, and I want this chance," he said, turning back to face her. "I'm not asking for forever—I would never be that presumptuous—but not because I don't want forever."

He paused to chuckle wryly, and then added, "No. I think I don't want that. Because deep down in my soul, I know forever isn't nearly enough with you."

He took a step closer again and lowered himself to his knees in front of her. "I love you, I want you, and I need you…just please be mine."

"Oh, Derek," she said, launching herself into his arms, kneeling next to him, tears pouring down her face. "I love you, too."

He held her in a hug that was far more intimate than any embrace they had ever had before. "Then you are really mine," he whispered.

"Silly boy, I have always been yours," she responded, laughing though her tears.

"Thank God," he said gruffly, kissing her temple, the top of her head, anywhere he could reach.

"I tried to tell you," she said.

He leaned back, looked at her, and arched a brow. "When?"

"Just now."

His eyes narrowed a bit. "When you were telling me you knew...you really _did_ know, didn't you?"

She nodded. "Mmm hmm."

His brow arched even higher. "So I went through that big ol' speech, and I didn't have to."

"Well," she said, looping her arms around his neck, "I wouldn't say you didn't have to. I liked hearing how I'm worshiped, Hot Stuff. Does a goddess good, you know..."

"That," he murmured, cupping her bottom and dragging her forward, in a prelude to a kiss, "makes it all worthwhile..."


	26. Chapter 26

_AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, alerts, and favorites for this story. I wish that you all could see exactly what it does for my heart. I smile for days on end, knowing that you appreciate the story. Thank you for watching P and D fall in love, and letting me fall in love right along with you as I post. Next story is on it's way, hope you will join me on the next adventure with Morgan and Garcia (I got three waiting to go and three more almost there!). With love and gratitude, Kricket Williams  
_

**Chapter 26-The epilogue**

When Derek and Penelope walked in, hand and hand, smiling and laughing, that Monday at work, they had known automatically they would get a lot of comments. They didn't care; they were too happy to be bothered by incessant teasing.

"Well, well!" Rossi exclaimed, looking at the happy couple. "Looks like a pair of teammates learned how to communicate properly over the long weekend."

"It certainly does," Prentiss said, giving them a knowing look.

Reid looked up from his paperwork and frowned in confusion as he glanced over. "Does what?"

Prentiss rolled her eyes.

Rossi chuckled, then said, "So...does what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas?"

Derek took a seat on the edge of the desk nearest where they were standing, and pulled Penelope onto his lap. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist, and put his chin over her shoulder to answer them, "What happened in Vegas was happening a long time before we'd ever left town."

"What is that?" Prentiss asked.

"Are your pet names going to become even more nauseating?" Rossi added.

"We're moving in together," Penelope said, looking over her shoulder, grinning.

"That's wonderful, althought maybe somewhat unexpected news," Reid interjected thoughtfully. "I mean, considering you both have your own places."

"Well, not really," Derek answered, then looked back at Penelope, a slow smirk growing across his face. "Considering..."

He lifted Penelope's left hand and placed it on top of his own.

"Oh, you didn't!" Prentiss declared.

"It appears they did," Hotch added, coming in from the other room. "Congratulations."

Derek kissed Penelope's cheek, the obvious love he had for her radiating in his every move. "We thought that we had wasted so much of our time together, we didn't want to waste a minute more."

"That's understandable," Rossi agreed.

"It is not!" Emily shot Rossi the evil eye, then looked back at the happy couple. "Who was your maid of honor?"

"You will be, and JJ, too, in a year, when we renew our vows and have a big party," Penelope said, smiling at her now chagrined friend.

Hotch's cell buzzed. He took a look at it and said, "Meeting in fifteen, team."

"Did Elvis marry you?" Reid asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Don't be silly," Penelope replied, sliding off of Derek's lap. "Superman did."

"Really?" Reid asked, perhaps a slight bit gobsmacked. He gave a half-grin. "I didn't know he was on the docket for that..."

Derek and Penelope both laughed.

"Congratulations," Reid said, stepping closer to give Penelope a hug, and then to shake Derek's hand.

"Hey, thanks...best man," Derek said.

Reid grabbed his lapels and rolled back on his heels. "With that title, I would be the most likely choice..." At the expressions on the P and D's faces, he put up his hands in protection. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Get outta here," Derek said, still beaming. As Reid walked away, he leaned down and gave Penelope a kiss. It was no small kiss, either...as usual.

They'd have to work on limiting those at work!

"Ready?" he asked, when he finally lifted his head.

"For anything," she said, holding his hand...and walking happily with him into forever.


End file.
